Thanks to Coursera, I am once again taking a MOOC. This time my course is Buddhism and Modern Psychology. My two favorite subjects all rolled into one 6-week package. Kudos, Princeton.

I gotta tell you: I love learning. Before I was old enough to go to school officially, I sometimes went with my grandmother to her third grade class and sat in a little desk by hers. (I wish I had a picture of that!) Since that time, being a student has always been a joy.

But I never thought about “love of learning” as a character strength until I began using the work of Dr. Martin Seligman in teaching my students. Dr. Seligman is the founder of positive psychology, and his website, Authentic Happiness (http://www.authentichappiness.sas.upenn.edu), provides numerous ways for you to find out exactly what it is that makes you “you.” I took the VIA Survey of Character Strengths and learned that my number one strength is “love of learning.” Here’s the description: “You love learning new things, whether in a class or on your own. You have always loved school, reading, and museums – anywhere and everywhere there is an opportunity to learn.” When I saw this description, I sat back in my chair, thinking, wow, I take that so for granted that I don’t think of it as a strength. It’s just there. I am not sure I have ever articulated it to anyone.

So, this week, if you have a few minutes and some curiosity, take this instrument. You have to create a free account with the website, but once you do that, you take the questionnaire and get your results. I’d like to know: who are you? What is your top strength?

Yes, it’s that time again. March Madness has gripped the nation. Grown-ups are seen cursing and throwing things…..and no, I’m not talking about the players. I mean the fans with brackets that have been blown to bits by the likes of Mercer, Dayton, and Tennessee.

And while I am a little bitter because my bracket was decimated by the demise of Creighton and Wichita State, I am also a person fascinated by the stories of the players and coaches who are at center stage.

I love stories. I don’t know if it’s my Southern upbringing or my love of books, but stories grab me every time. I know that each person you see on the screen has a story of how he got where he is now, a story subtitled “son of a coach,” “child of a single parent,” “the youngest of five children,” “father of two.”

Between 1999 and 2002 I worked with the NC State men’s basketball team, and thus I got to witness a small part of Dayton Coach Archie Miller’s story. I met Archie during his third year. He was definitely a leader and the most energetic person in the room. One day, he walked into the study center and saw one of the freshmen asleep on the sofa. Archie pounced. “What are you doing sleeping? Every time I see you, you’re sleeping! You’re sleeping in the locker room, you’re sleeping here. You need to get up! You can’t sleep through your freshman year!” The freshman, who was 10 inches taller and outweighed Archie by at least 60 pounds, jumped to his feet instantly. “Sorry, man.” I knew then that Archie would be a coach.

Archie’s story wasn’t without detours. He had season-ending back surgery during the 1998-99 season and ended up taking a medical redshirt. He suffered a stress fracture in his fibula during the 2000-2001 season. I admired his tenacity and his willingness to keep a good attitude in the face of setback after setback. He contributed to the team, even without playing. If you were within earshot of practice, you could hear his distinctive bark.

In the 2001-2002 Wolfpack Basketball media guide, there is a profile of each player. In it, you can read the answers to such profound questions as “If you had to cook all your meals, what would you survive on?” (For Archie, that was Al’s Pizza and the Hot Dog Shoppe.) The last question? “Who on the team is most likely to become a head coach one day?” His answer: Myself.

Good luck in the Sweet Sixteen, Archie. I’m glad I witnessed a little bit of your story.

The other day I was at Starbucks and a small boy about two years old was standing in the middle of the floor crying and saying “no, no.” He was so obviously distressed that his mother came over, scooped him up, and held him close, soothing him.

I envied that little boy.

Have you ever wished you could stand in the middle of wherever you were and cry? Let everyone know how distressed you really were?

I felt like that the past two weeks. Because of the terrible winter weather, several projects and meetings converged with a program I had been working on for months. Delayed deadlines and rescheduled appointments meant I was scrambling to get everything done in a compressed period of time.

It was grueling. By the day of my program, I was so mentally exhausted I could barely think straight. That also meant I had to work very, very hard to not let it show….which was even more exhausting. Inside, I was a two-year-old child crying and saying “No! Enough!”

As an adult, we can’t stand in the middle of wherever we are and cry out. But we do have one way to handle it. We can stop pretending that we are living effortless lives, and we can stop telling the people close to us, “everything is fine. Don’t worry about me.” We can tell the truth to the people who care about us. We can say, “hey, this has been a really, really hard week. It honestly has been brutal. I need your understanding.”

So while we probably won’t stand in the middle of Starbucks and sob loudly, we must find a way to talk to the people who love us and care about us. We must allow ourselves to be two years old again in our honest expression of what our life is really like. There are people who can pick us and soothe us. But we have to say the words.

The other day, for the millionth time, I unsubscribed from a email list.

When I was first added, I thought, “hey, this will be convenient. I love XXX’s clothes.” (I don’t want their feelings to be hurt, so I won’t name the company.) “I will know when they are having their best sales and can jump right on it.”

But that was many months ago. I have sworn off buying any clothes online – I found myself making too many returns – so their mailings are no longer useful to me. I thought I unsubscribed a few weeks ago, but the emails kept coming. I started getting irritated. I then said to myself, “Why are you so mad? You started this. They obviously didn’t receive your last unsubscribe message. So send another one and move on!”

I then realized that we have a lot in our lives that we need to “unsubscribe” from: old habits…old thoughts about ourselves….old messages from well-meaning teachers who thought they were helping….old ideas about other people. If we don’t become more aware of those habits, thoughts, messages, and ideas, they can really wreak havoc with our happiness.

We don’t need to hang on to every notion we’ve ever had about the world. So take some time to review your mental “in box” and unsubscribe from thinking that no longer serves you.

Why do restaurants play loud, driving music? OK, not all restaurants but those that specialize in “fast food” seem to be the ones that do it the most.

I was in Jimmy John’s – the home of “Freaky Fast Delivery” – the other day and noticed that every song that came on was fast. And loud. I was glad to be eating alone because I would not have been able to hear anyone sitting across from me.

That night, I did some research on how restaurants choose music to play for their customers. One website said, “Music in a restaurant does not represent the personality of the owner, employee, or a customer. It represents the personality of the restaurant itself.” Another website said that the music is designed to “stay true to their core guest.” But then I read this: “Energetic, up-tempo songs encourage quick dining and faster table turns at peak periods.” The music drives the pace of having lunch?

So I did an experiment. I went back to Jimmy John’s, got my food, and went upstairs to sit. I paid attention to the pace I was eating my food. When David Bowie came on, I deliberately ate more slowly than the beat of the music. I found that it was really, really tough to do. My jaws literally wanted to move to Bowie’s beat. Talk about mindfulness practice!

Then I started watching the other diners. They were eating fast. One guy was eating really fast. One potato chip, then one bite of sandwich, then another potato chip, a slurp of tea, on and on and on. Keeping the beat. It was amazing to watch. He was done in just a few minutes, grabbed his book bag and was gone. Bowie had moved him out the door in no time flat.

So the next time you are in a fast food restaurant eating and there is music on, take a minute to pay attention to your eating speed. Try eating at a slower pace than the music – then let me know what happens. It may change your habits!