Paradigm Shift, Revisited

I said I had another story about paradigm shifting and parenting. This last one was really the first. I thought of this story first, but then the other stories kind of made more sense to me, so they were posted first. The harder concept with this story is that our parents did a good job of maintaining our twin individualities. We were so often frustrated when someone would give us a letter/permission slip to take to parents, a flower, a birthday gift and tell us, "You don't need two, you're really one person anyway." My answer is: How do you share a "Jingle Jump"? The point of that Jingle Jump was to turn the bell around your ankle all day, so, when was the sharing going to take place?

My parents were very good at letting us maintain our identities. We wore different colored tennis shoes so they could tell us apart, but one day, my mom let us switch our usual red and blue shoes so we could "trick our daddy." In my mind, at a very young age, that fun game was what helped me do my earliest "deep thinking," as Kerry and Steve call it. I was able to think through some "I'm an individual" thoughts. So hard to explain, but a great technique. Thanks, Great Grandma and Great Grandpa!

Paradigm Shifts and Memories

My meaning for the phrase:

"The term "paradigm shift" has found uses in other contexts, representing the notion of a major change in a certain thought-pattern—a radical change in personal beliefs, complex systems or organizations, replacing the former way of thinking or organizing with a radically different way of thinking or organizing." (thefreedictionary.com)

Looking back on my childhood, a memory I have is that my parents did a good job with us on things like thunderstorms and annoyances. Instead of getting all mad at something that was beyond our control, several times they made a game out of the situation. When we lived in North Carolina and Alabama, there were shocking thunderstorms. Instead of being afraid of them, especially in Alabama, (the memory is stronger, there, I was nine--three in North Carolina). I remember my dad putting chairs in the inside entryway of our apartment building and watching with us with "oohs" and "aahs." He commented on the beauty and majesty of it all. It became a family fun time and a game--no more fear.

Another paradigm shift: There was a burro on the hillside near our neighborhood in Napa that would bray at all hours so loudly that the neighbors were up in arms. My parents laughed and laughed, instead, at the burro, saying it sounded like it was talking to our neighbor, Bea. The sound he made was beeeee-heeeee-heeee-heeee-heee, like he was laughing at Bea. It became a family joke, more fun time, and our frustration at the noise was obviated.

So, when you're frustrated, think of just shifting your paradigm. It could save you untold hours of grief!