The Hula Hoop Method

“A Hula Hoop as a healthy mind tool?” I asked.  At Toastmasters last week during Table Topics, the question was asked, “What is the best advice you ever received?” Table Topics is designed to teach us how to answer a question, off the cuff, calmly. We give a one to two minute response and eventually we learn to answer any type of question without going into panic mode.

Beverly’s responded like the pro she is. “It’s actually something I heard. It’s called the Hula Hoop method.”

 

“Imagine you have a Hula Hoop. Close your eyes and see the color. Twirl it in the air.  Now place it over your head and let it fall to your feet,” she instructed the group. I wiggled my hips in imaginary hooping until it dropped past my knees.

She continued, “Open your eyes and look down now. Anything within the space at your feet is your business. Anything outside the hoop is NOT!” She smiled at us and waited for it to sink in. Eyes opened wide as the brilliance of such a simple statement was realized.

I told the group I was going shopping for one on the way home. It was a genius idea. I may have to bring it to work, shopping, lunch with friends and keep it nearby for dinner, as well.

On the drive home, I gave the Hula Hoop mindset more thought. This could change me life. Inside the hoop was my business; outside the hoop was MYOB.

At first I was really excited to focus on myself: my thoughts, my actions. After two days, I got bored with myself. As much as I say I hate drama, I think I might like it a bit. It keeps life saucy. It’s entertaining and anyone who knows me knows that I need to be entertained.

It’s not always easy to stay inside the hoop. When a friend called with a problem sobbing, I attempted tell her about the Hola Hoop. “Sorry, I’m in my Hula hoop right now,” I apologized.

“So I have to sit here sad and all alone, until you get out of your hoop?” she asked, sniffling.

“No, no,” I consoled her. I’ll just step out of my hoop for an hour. Tell me what happened.” I leaned in close for details.

After thirty minutes of hearing her story, I had to comment, because after all, I was out of my hoop. “You know we train people how to treat us, right?” I asked her.

She nodded and dried her eyes. “But he should know these things,” she cried more.

“He doesn’t know if you don’t tell him,” I continued my counseling. She nodded, but we’d had this conversation approximately eight times in two years and here we were again. Hmmm. My counseling is not working. Someone is resisting doing what could help alleviate the tears and misunderstanding.

“Well, look at the time! My hour is up. I have to get back to my Hula Hoop now,” I said nicely.

She tried to keep me engaged, “But wait until I tell you what else happened,” she begged.

I dashed off like Cinderella running to the pumpkin coach.

“I have to get back to the Hula Hoop!” I screeched, a little too aggressively. Maybe I don’t like drama after all.

I see a Hula Hoop factory in my near future.