Willingness

This post first appeared in As Diana O Sees It on July 20, 2023

A small group of us walked along a Swiss alpine riverbank. Our new friend, Matthieu*, spoke about run-ins with California state troopers, his alcohol and drug abuse, his personal bankruptcy, divorce, deportation from the United States separating him from his children, and his stay in a Swiss treatment center from which he had just checked out.

Why hadn't he sought help earlier on his path of destruction?

“I guess I needed to feel more pain,” he said with a smile.

Ah the gift of desperation!

I told them my story.

One year earlier on that same riverbank, when I had been living in the Swiss Alps for nearly 10 years and been sober for six, I had had a panic attack while running.

This panic attack had come about after the end of a long relationship that felt like a divorce. I had been using blame, busyness, denial, not eating, and running to avoid feelings.

That February morning, it was about 10 degrees below zero Celsius. Now looking back, it was suicidal to run alone, in that cold, and in that deserted area. About a mile down the snowy path, my body started to shake and sweat, my heart raced, my breath felt smothered, and my chest hurt.

"Am I going crazy or is my heart breaking?" I thought.

A few minutes went by and the dizziness went away. Breathing resumed enabling me to run back to my car. Exhausted yet grateful I hadn’t passed out, I called a friend.

“Don’t panic,” she told me. “Emotional pain will not kill you. Just lean into it.”

I expressed my willingness to go to any lengths to get rid of my obsessive suffering and fear of abandonment.

“A healthy man wants a thousand things, a sick man only wants one,” comes to mind. While the quote's attribution remains uncertain, it is a reminder about pain and its way of narrowing our focus and priorities.

That’s when I started the work.

That “gift of desperation" is something I thank daily.

(*name changed to protect anonymity)

Visiting, once again

This first appeared in As Diana O Sees It on August 24, 2023.

The train pulls into the Swiss alpine village station. I lift my suitcase onto the railcar and plop down onto a seat by a large, clean window. I take a deep breath and enjoy the moment.

It’s great to be unhurried. Age has mellowed me. There was a time when I’d rush for trains and planes.

I have a flashback.

I’m 15, summer break is ending, and I’m leaving Switzerland to return to boarding school near Boston. My grandparents have brought me to the station, as they did each visit. 

After boarding, I look out the window. They stand, waiting on the platform.

When the train I’m on starts to move, we wave to each other. Grossmouti wipes a tear from her eye, and Grosspapa takes out his handkerchief and wipes his nose. We won’t see each other for many months; and I’m the only family they have left.

This time, when the train starts to move, I look out the window and see no one waiting on the platform. I take another deep breath and acknowledge the sadness in my chest.

The train bends, creaks, and winds its way through verdant meadows. We pass by the level crossing in my old neighborhood. Two cars and a tractor are waiting to pass. I vaguely recognize the drivers’ faces. For 13 years, my children and I were a part of this farming community, but now, I’m a visitor once again.

Searching for mushrooms

This post first appeared in As Diana O Sees It on August 17, 2024.

It was an August afternoon in the Swiss Alps when I set out on my hike to hunt for mushrooms. The air was warm and damp. Instead of walking the trail, I chose to bush wag up the tree line along the stream behind my house.

As I ascended, the incline steepened and the ground beneath my hiking boots softened. The stream gurgled. The bees hummed. My muscles engaged and I could feel the pulse increasing in my chest. I focused on breath and established a steady rhythm.

As I neared the special mushroom spot—a damp meadow with a group of conifers—my hiking boots pressed into the mossy grass a little faster than before. I had learned of this spot thanks to an ex-boyfriend. He was an experienced forager and in addition to teaching me how to identify two types of edible mushrooms—Chanterelles and Boletus aka porcini—he had made me promise to never to divulge his mushroom spots to anyone.

No matter how I hard I looked this time, no fungi could be found.

I gave up and kept climbing the mountain.

After 30 minutes, the trees and shrubs that had initially surrounded me started to thin out. The world around me began to widen, and I could see sweeping views of the valleys below.

The smell of earth and pine warmed by the sun mixed. A common buzzard emitting a series of high-pitched whistles soared above my head. Problems and worries started to dissipate. I found myself in a rhythm, like a dance between my breath, my legs, and the earth.

About an hour after I had left my home, I summited and found the surrounding beauty and views dizzying. Clouds cast shadows on the landscape. My skin cooled thanks to a breeze. I was happy to be alive. My mind was clear and worries were gone.

While descending, I retraced my steps.

As I reached that special mushroom spot—where the damp meadow and the group of conifers were—I suddenly spotted bright golden shapes in the moss. As I got nearer, I saw the telltale wavy edges and gills. Chanterelles! How had I missed them during my ascent? Had they grown while I had summited? Why was I now able to see them and not before?

Perhaps, the character Katherine in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun was on to something when she said: “When I was a little girl, I used to run around in the fields all day, trying unsuccessfully to catch ladybugs. Finally, I would get tired and lay down for a nap. When I awoke, I’d find ladybugs walking all over me.” 

When we least expect it and slow down, things come to us.

It’s a bit like searching for a partner. We go on dating apps and come up disappointed. When we least expected it, we meet someone who fits. That search for happiness can be elusive but when we stop trying so hard and just be, our eyes see things we normally wouldn’t see.

FREE DISCOVERY CALL: If you have further questions or to book a discovery call, click here.

On embracing discomfort

You might be interested to read my latest interview on ‘living the good life’—embracing discomfort and pursuing meaningful activities while preserving our planet—and it got me thinking about my time in the Swiss Alps.

Looking back at those days, boy, did I enjoy working in the garden to create a haven for bees, butterflies, and for my family. Writing for GstaadLife—with the aim of trying to bridge the gap between the locals and the “chalet guests”—satisfied a purpose of adding value to the community.

Regarding the preserving planet part, however, I used to cringe at the way farming was evolving and what my grandfather Werner would have have said about it were he still alive.

Having grown up on a small farm and being the son of a dairy farmer, Werner was the kind of man who would rise at dawn—before his regular job as a lineman for the electric company—to put in a few hours cutting grass for a friend. A neighbor once told me that ol’ Werner was one of the last of his kind, those traditional farmhands who were able to cut grass expertly using a traditional scythe, and who had the legs, endurance, and balance to do so for hours on steep inclines.

If Werner were still alive, I’m sure he’d shake his head in dismay at the modern factory-type farming, characterized by huge tractors, mechanical hay threshers, blowers, and by the use of weed killer. He’d rage against the large, free stall barns— requiring the cutting of cow horns—that have led to an increase in the number and density of animals sharing space and to the collection and spraying of slurry on the fields.

Rising obesity, hay fever, respiratory problems, and dandelion monoculture, and not to mention carbon emissions, are some of the effects. All of these issues arise out of avoiding discomfort. But who am I to talk? I don’t farm.

Thank you dear friend

A wise person once said that anyone can meditate alone on a quiet beach, but it is the true master who can control his mind surrounded by crowds at a loud intersection.

It was easier to find balance in the mountains than in a city. There were fewer relationships to head off, fewer people to annoy or distract me. Once out of isolation, the more I engaged in relationships the more I found myself wanting others to be different than they were.

A good friend intervened and reminded me that only I can push my own buttons. Ouch. I had been so intent on wallowing in self pity and pride. His well-timed reminder has led to some prolific journaling and moments of meditation.

My defects of character were only in remission waiting for situations to throw me off balance. Thank goodness for that spot check and that good friend.

Red sky at morning, sailors and shepherds take warning

As you may have noticed, blog posts from the Swiss Alps have been scant, due to the fact that I've been fishing off the New England coast.

Come to think of it, there are some similarities between the alps and the ocean. Both are breathtakingly beautiful. Both are food sources. Both can kill, especially when storms arise. Both provide horizons to expand one’s perspective and to expand one’s mental possibilities.

Both abide by the saying: "Red sky at night, shepherd's delight. Red sky in the morning, shepherd's warning"

Both attract similar characters: strong men and women who need time alone to connect with nature. Mountaineers and fishermen face harsh elements, watch the weather, understand animal psychology, and know local topography.

Both mountaineers and fishermen live simply and are patient.

Daily meal preparation improved me

Women are primarily responsible for meal preparation in the Swiss alps, and lunch being the main meal of the day, this means one has to take time each morning to shop, prepare, and cook.

Children usually come home around 12:15 as well as husbands, if they are working nearby. At first, I complained at what I believed to be an incredibly sexist and inconvenient tradition. What? There was no school lunch program? 

Eventually, I had no choice but to accept it, and over the years and after trying out new recipes and cooking every single day, my skills improved. 

I arrived in the Swiss Alps a spoiled, academically-minded young mother who knew nothing about cooking (I could barely cook an egg), but I left a resourceful cook and mother who can now prepare healthy meals without too much of a struggle. My experience as a Swiss "Hausfrau" or housewife could have turned out differently. Instead, I could have fed my kids ready-made meals, filled with saturated fat, salt, and chemicals, and outsourced a valuable time of my day to strangers. I don't regret those "Hausfrau" days,

Did I suffer from sexism? Or did I choose to make my experience a positive one? I think I improved. 

Purchasing power

A few years ago, the Swiss overwhelmingly rejected a minimum wage of SFr 22 per hour, the equivalent of nearly $25. 

To Americans, this dismissal was understandable considering their minimum wage was and still is $7.25, and a proposal to raise it to $10.10 per hour is often debated. Many say a $10.10 minimum wage could push half a million people out of work.

As it turns out, when adjusting for purchasing power parity, that $25 hourly wage translates to $14, according to Bloomberg.

It's still high by American standards, but not unheard-of. As of January 1, 2018,  Seattle adopted a $15.45 per-hour minimum wage.

The more things change...

My mother used to say: "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose" meaning "the more things change, the more they stay the same." She was quoting a 19th century French novelist, journalist, and critic named Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, who was known for his political satire and wit.

The Stoics and the Buddhists refer to the same thing: impermanence.

Our bodies decay, lands erode, lakes silt up, but at the core we are the same.

When I return to places where I used to live, I notice the changes: the new roads and buildings. These places still feel the same though.

They've changed, but they are the same.

Voting time again

Now the US congressional elections are over, we can focus on the upcoming Swiss referendum's three questions:

• Should farmers be encouraged to keep their cows' horns intact?

• Should social welfare detectives be given increased power in tracking down fraudsters?

• Should Swiss law have precedence over international law?
  

  I know how I will vote.
  

• Cows with horns are prettier, happier, and give better tasting milk. 

• If you have nothing to hide, then this one is clear.

• Switzerland voted to stay out of the EU.
  

Under every roof

One day about 15 years ago, an old lady in my neighborhood told me stories about my great-uncle, who had been a farmer, hunter, heavy drinker, and wife beater. Then, with a wise look in her eye she said: "Unter jedem Dach wohnt ein Ach." This is not easily translatable, but it means "Under every roof lives a tale of woe."

This phrase has stuck with me ever since.

No household is perfect.

Everyone struggles with something.

The waitress teaches me a lesson

The idea of “god” used to turn me off. After all, how could I trust something that allowed bad things to happen to the innocent?

The problem was that I placed my trust in people I didn’t know well or who reminded me of my abusers, and was disappointed. Then, I tried to fix those people, as if I had the power of god. Over time, I stopped believing I was the director of the universe and that my compulsion to control people and situations was making me sick. What a relief! I could stop wasting my energy trying to fix others.

But I still slip up sometimes, as I did yesterday.

No matter that I knew that Swiss restaurants—especially those catering to tourists on mountain passes—feature horrible customer service; when that waitress spoke disrespectfully and loudly to my daughter and me, I felt shocked, unwanted, and angry. I should have felt some sympathy for the poor woman, who was working on a Sunday and who was juggling complaints from other diners.

My daughter told me to cool it. Instead, I complained to the manager and waited in the car.

In retrospect, I think I was playing director of the universe. Who the hell did I think I was? Yes, she was rude, but who was I to teach her a lesson?

A return to the Swiss Alps

After a year-long hiatus from this blog due to coaching and writing articles on personal development and leadership, I am back and happy to entertain you again with musings from the Swiss Alps.

As I write you from Gstaad, the leaves have turned yellow and orange and are falling off the branches, and the temperatures hover near freezing. Some apples still hang on their branches, ready for the first freeze. For about two weeks in October, the neighbor’s cows grazed on our land, and last weekend, they moved to a different property offering fresher grass. Pretty soon, the snow will come and they will remain in their barns.

Fritzli, our new mini Schnauzer, is adorable and demanding lots of attention. He’s learning to come, sit and fetch. I am trying to teach him not to jump up on people, but he can’t help it, being so sociable and excited. He also has a disgusting attraction to cow poop. I have to clean off his feet every time he comes in after his ballads in the fields. And of course, he is exhibiting a strong Napoleonic complex when interacting with our neighbor's cows.

New venture

Starting a new venture is never easy, which is why you haven't seen many articles on this blog recently. Since 2016, I have been working on becoming a life coach. The good news is I am now a Core Essentials graduate from CoachU and am pursuing an advanced corporate coaching degree and ICF certification as well as supporting my amazing clients.

So, if you want to follow my writing, go to my new coaching site's articles. I will keep Life in the Swiss Alps up and running as a reference. And... who knows... I may write again for it when time allows.

Expat marriage saved by bell

At a recent dinner, an English woman told the following story.

It was her wedding anniversary, and her husband had given her a large present. Upon peeling off the layer of wrapping, she found a vacuum cleaner box. Where was that diamond or key to the fancy car?

"I thought of divorcing him," she said laughing, "until I looked inside the box and found an antique Swiss cowbell."

Driving home that night, our friend's story turned in my head. How amazing that she could be satisfied by a cowbell. Love it. Only in Switzerland.

Ben Franklin might have been Swiss

The minimalist in me wants less: talk, stuff, weight, inflammation, pain, loneliness, judgement, criticism, negativity, fighting, extremes, noise.

The immoderate in me wants more: listening, empty space, fitness, calm, comfort, connection, acceptance, acknowledgment, optimism, peace, moderation, silence.

After discovering Benjamin Franklin's list of 13 virtues, I thingk he might have done well in Switzerland. My Swiss grandparents lived by many of these virtues.

13 Virtues

Temperance. Eat not to dullness; drink not to elevation.

Silence. Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself; avoid trifling conversation.

Order. Let all your things have their places; let each part of your business have its time.

Resolution. Resolve to perform what you ought; perform without fail what you resolve.

Frugality. Make no expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e., waste nothing.

Industry. Lose no time; be always employ'd in something useful; cut off all unnecessary actions.

Sincerity. Use no hurtful deceit; think innocently and justly, and, if you speak, speak accordingly.

Justice. Wrong none by doing injuries, or omitting the benefits that are your duty.

Moderation. Avoid extremes; forbear resenting injuries so much as you think they deserve.

Cleanliness. Tolerate no uncleanliness in body, cloaths, or habitation.

Tranquillity. Be not disturbed at trifles, or at accidents common or unavoidable.

Chastity. Rarely use venery but for health or offspring, never to dullness, weakness, or the injury of your own or another's peace or reputation.

Humility. Imitate Jesus and Socrates.

Self-responsibility increases freedom

The USA is known as the "land of the free," but I believe Switzerland wins here. Yes, it has its laws, and everyone is insured to the max. Yet despite this, the Swiss have a lot of personal freedom. They have the liberty to judge if what they are doing is safe and to do so at their own risk.

Much is left to their personal judgment and responsibility. I believe this is what makes Switzerland more fun--and less expensive--than the USA.

Regarding fun: for one, Switzerland still has diving boards. The powers-that-be at our beach club in Newport, Rhode Island, removed the diving board, a source of amusement during our childhood summers. Perhaps, they did so due to its proximity to the bar. Wait! We were children and certainly not allowed at the bar. Secondly, you can walk a dog off the leash as long as it's voice controlled. This would be unheard of in the USA, where dog owners are treated like second-class citizens. Thirdly, you can ski down a mountain at night after consuming kilos of melted cheese and liters of wine and schnapps. It's up to you to stay sufficiently sober to ski home; and if you get too drunk and break your leg, don't even think about suing the mountain restaurant. You won't get very far. Fourthly, mountaineers, including base jumpers, have fewer restrictions. The onus is on them to exercise judgment, unlike in the USA, where many parks are closed to such adventures.

Now for the cost factor. According to Paul Rubin in a New York Times op-ed: "[US citizens] spend about 2.2 percent of gross domestic product, roughly $310 billion a year, or about $1,000 for each person in the country on tort litigation, much higher than any other country."

“America is known as the land of the free, but it is also the land of unnecessary lawsuits,” said Lisa A. Rickard, president of the U.S. Chamber Institute for Legal Reform.  “As the U.S. experience has shown, excessive litigation creates enormous costs for businesses, workers, consumers, and the overall economy.”

Imagine the added cost of having to put warning stickers on lighters: "Danger: Extremely Flammable." No duh! Anyone dumb enough to not know that the contents of a lighter are flammable is too dumb to read the label.

Self-responsibility lowers the costs overall and contributes to Switzerland's attractiveness as a business location. And thanks to this, people tend to be more responsible and to have more fun.