Jonathan Fleming is a Brooklyn man, who was recently exonerated of a murder he didn't commit after spending 25 years in prison. He was released with $93 from his prison account and has been living from cousin to cousin. Many would be angry, but not Jonathan. Jonathan was just happy to be out of prison and wanted to go to school. When he was released, he said, "Today's the first day of the rest of my life."
Enter Alex Sutaru, a Wall Street banker, who was impressed by both Jonathan's positive attitude and his total lack of resentment after spending half his life in prison for a crime he didn't commit. Alex is the kind of leader that I wrote about in "Acting the Courage of our Convictions" (4/26/14.) He could see how he could make a difference, and he did.
Alex went online and started a crowd-sourcing campaign to generate money to help Jonathan get a new start in life. More than 600 people from 14 countries gave a total of $35,000 to help Jonathan start his life over. Because of Alex's leadership, Jonathan is able to afford a place to live and food while he gets back on his feet again.*
Each of us can do something. We just need to listen when something pulls at our heart strings. Alex did, and he changed Jonathan's life. Our hearts always know.
*The source of materials from this abbreviated piece is from ABC Nightly News with Diane Sawyer. http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2014/04/america-strong-stranger-raises-35k-for-exonerated-prisoner/
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Soul School
What if none of world around us with which we busy ourselves and care so deeply about is real? What if all of it--the house, the car, the job, the education, the people--all of it is just a fiction, contrived to offer us opportunities to learn and grow our souls? Actually, I think that is so: life is a school for the soul.
None of the lessons we have to learn...in whatever form they show up--unpleasant people, bad habits, sugar, challenging circumstances...is real. Each simply tests our spiritual understanding and invites us to be whole. Think of it like "story problems" in math. The story is simply a set of circumstances to force us to solve a math problem. Things that happen in our lives are simply sets of circumstances to force us to solve a spiritual problem.
Now mastering a lesson is not a one-time test. You know that same boss you've had at five different jobs? (Not really the same person, but the same set of challenges packaged to help you learn.) Like the story problems in math, the stories change but the solution is always the same. I don't mean taking exactly the same actions, but can you find a spiritual resolution in a variety of situations with the same underlying problem? If so, you have mastered the lesson.
Instead of getting grades though, in soul school each time we master a lesson we get lighter. You know the feeling: when it feels like you could jump for joy and click your heels. That is light. When we get bogged down in lessons, we get heavy and tired--just slogging through life.
I am not sure but I am pretty confident the secret may be to simply choose lighter. If we just laugh at the challenges instead of getting wrapped around the axle by them, we score. If we love and support those who test us, we score. And we sure feel a lot better, too.
None of the lessons we have to learn...in whatever form they show up--unpleasant people, bad habits, sugar, challenging circumstances...is real. Each simply tests our spiritual understanding and invites us to be whole. Think of it like "story problems" in math. The story is simply a set of circumstances to force us to solve a math problem. Things that happen in our lives are simply sets of circumstances to force us to solve a spiritual problem.
Now mastering a lesson is not a one-time test. You know that same boss you've had at five different jobs? (Not really the same person, but the same set of challenges packaged to help you learn.) Like the story problems in math, the stories change but the solution is always the same. I don't mean taking exactly the same actions, but can you find a spiritual resolution in a variety of situations with the same underlying problem? If so, you have mastered the lesson.
Instead of getting grades though, in soul school each time we master a lesson we get lighter. You know the feeling: when it feels like you could jump for joy and click your heels. That is light. When we get bogged down in lessons, we get heavy and tired--just slogging through life.
I am not sure but I am pretty confident the secret may be to simply choose lighter. If we just laugh at the challenges instead of getting wrapped around the axle by them, we score. If we love and support those who test us, we score. And we sure feel a lot better, too.
Sunday, April 27, 2014
You Are Beautiful!
Matthew Hoffman is a graphic artist with a mission. He set out to make the world just a little better by creating and sharing a simple positive affirming message. The message:
He started ten years ago with 100 stickers, which he stuck around on power poles and garbage cans to encourage anyone who might see them. Then he started making them available to others. Now, over half a million "You Are Beautiful" stickers have been posted around the world and as far away as Antarctica, where someone put a sticker on a stuffed penguin, which was then placed amidst real penguins before being photographed.
What a simple way to make someone's day. We all have it within us to make the world a better place, and Matthew Hoffman has demonstrated how such a simple idea can make a difference in a big way.
http://you-are-beautiful.com/about
He started ten years ago with 100 stickers, which he stuck around on power poles and garbage cans to encourage anyone who might see them. Then he started making them available to others. Now, over half a million "You Are Beautiful" stickers have been posted around the world and as far away as Antarctica, where someone put a sticker on a stuffed penguin, which was then placed amidst real penguins before being photographed.
What a simple way to make someone's day. We all have it within us to make the world a better place, and Matthew Hoffman has demonstrated how such a simple idea can make a difference in a big way.
http://you-are-beautiful.com/about
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Acting the Courage of our Convictions
Today I volunteer ushered at a performance of the play Camp David at Arena Stage. Occasionally, the theatre has a shortage of ushers and puts out a request for people willing to volunteer for a second performance of the same play. I'd volunteered at the play two weeks ago, but I was available so I thought I'd help.
Usually, when I serve a second performance of the same play, I leave after patrons have been seated, and the play has begun. In the spirit of doing something different (see yesterday,) I stayed and watched the play again. The play is a poignant work. I was even more moved the second time.
The play synopsizes the behind-the-scenes negotiating executed by then President Jimmy Carter between Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin at the Presidential retreat Camp David in the mountains of northern Maryland in 1979. Still considered Begin's most significant achievement (Wikipedia,) signing of the Camp David Accords was the first time Israel had a negotiated peace with an Arab neighbor since Biblical times. Following wars between Israel and Egypt in 1967 and 1973 which had cost 100,000 lives, the three key players knew that another war was inevitable, if they couldn't reach an agreement.
During the course of the play, which was based on personal diaries of President Carter and First Lady Rosalind Carter, the audience learns how perilous the potential peace was during the 13 days of negotiation. Participants recall that Sadat was the only person in the Egyptian delegation, who wanted peace, and Begin was the only one in the Israeli delegation, who did not. Yet, in no small part due to what each player wanted (or didn't want) for his grandchildren, peace was accomplished. (Sadat and Begin shared the Nobel Peace Prize for the accomplishment.)
Sometimes the theatre hosts a discussion after thought-provoking plays. I rarely stay. Today I did something else different, especially different for me on a beautiful spring afternoon: I stayed and participated.
The panel this afternoon was particularly prestigious and apropos:
-Gerald Rafshoon, White House Communications Director under President Carter, one of the few participants at Camp David other than the principals, and collaborator on the writing of the play Camp David
-Anita Dunn, President Obama's Deputy Director of White House Communications and a White House intern in that office at the time of Camp David
-Debra Amos, NPR's Middle East correspondent for many years
-Judy Woodruff, currently co-anchor of the PBS Newshour and former chief White House correspondent for NBC News at the time of Camp David
Their perspectives were insightful. They added color and pretty much agreed that it was much easier for the President and two other world leaders to disappear on a mountaintop with almost no communication for 13 days, when there were only three major networks and no social media, than it would have been with today's 24/7 news cycle.
However, Rafshoon insisted that the word be "easier" rather than "easy." President Carter was advised against the mission. President Anwar Sadat knew and openly expressed that he was signing his death warrant. Prime Minister Menachem Begin presumed political suicide. They all ended up being right. (President Carter was not reelected. Sadat was assassinated the next year by fundamentalists opposed to the Accords. Begin lived out his life as a recluse.) Yet they were willing to risk everything for the cause of peace in the Middle East.
As each member of the panel offered concluding remarks, their agreement settled on the conviction, largely of President Carter, to courageously push ahead when his absence from the public eye at a time of much turmoil in his presidency almost assured his defeat. Several times during his presidency, Rafshoon said of Carter, he insisted on doing what he thought was the "right" thing, even while risking significant political costs. The willingness of a leader to take those risks today could enable such an effort again, they agreed.
During the course of dialogue between the panel and the audience, at one point the conversation drifted from Camp David to examine similar parallels between President Johnson and the Civil Rights Act. Long before Vietnam sealed his presidential fate, Johnson had made the decision to pursue civil rights legislation, even when he'd been assured that it would cost him reelection. Paraphrasing, Johnson had said, "If I can't do something about civil rights, what good is the presidency?"
Abraham Lincoln and Mohandas Gandhi were similar men of conviction who paid the ultimate price to do what was right.
In Leading from the Heart I described leadership as beginning when one person believes he or she can make a difference and then having the faith and conviction to pursue what they can to make that difference. If the leader can dream it, I said, the true leader sets about to make it happen. These were men dreaming something bigger than themselves and then acting the courage of their convictions, without concern for the personal consequences.
The course of human history has been punctuated by a few courageous souls who were unwilling to sit with the status quo and chose to create meaningful change. There is something that each of us can do to make the world a better place. Still we often hold back for fear of personal consequences. The message on the back of each of our hearts is nagging at us to do something. ("Intention," 3/13/14) The next time I feel that strong tug, I will remember Camp David and the courage of those men to make peace.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Usually, when I serve a second performance of the same play, I leave after patrons have been seated, and the play has begun. In the spirit of doing something different (see yesterday,) I stayed and watched the play again. The play is a poignant work. I was even more moved the second time.
The play synopsizes the behind-the-scenes negotiating executed by then President Jimmy Carter between Egyptian president Anwar Sadat and Israeli prime minister Menachem Begin at the Presidential retreat Camp David in the mountains of northern Maryland in 1979. Still considered Begin's most significant achievement (Wikipedia,) signing of the Camp David Accords was the first time Israel had a negotiated peace with an Arab neighbor since Biblical times. Following wars between Israel and Egypt in 1967 and 1973 which had cost 100,000 lives, the three key players knew that another war was inevitable, if they couldn't reach an agreement.
During the course of the play, which was based on personal diaries of President Carter and First Lady Rosalind Carter, the audience learns how perilous the potential peace was during the 13 days of negotiation. Participants recall that Sadat was the only person in the Egyptian delegation, who wanted peace, and Begin was the only one in the Israeli delegation, who did not. Yet, in no small part due to what each player wanted (or didn't want) for his grandchildren, peace was accomplished. (Sadat and Begin shared the Nobel Peace Prize for the accomplishment.)
Sometimes the theatre hosts a discussion after thought-provoking plays. I rarely stay. Today I did something else different, especially different for me on a beautiful spring afternoon: I stayed and participated.
The panel this afternoon was particularly prestigious and apropos:
-Gerald Rafshoon, White House Communications Director under President Carter, one of the few participants at Camp David other than the principals, and collaborator on the writing of the play Camp David
-Anita Dunn, President Obama's Deputy Director of White House Communications and a White House intern in that office at the time of Camp David
-Debra Amos, NPR's Middle East correspondent for many years
-Judy Woodruff, currently co-anchor of the PBS Newshour and former chief White House correspondent for NBC News at the time of Camp David
Their perspectives were insightful. They added color and pretty much agreed that it was much easier for the President and two other world leaders to disappear on a mountaintop with almost no communication for 13 days, when there were only three major networks and no social media, than it would have been with today's 24/7 news cycle.
However, Rafshoon insisted that the word be "easier" rather than "easy." President Carter was advised against the mission. President Anwar Sadat knew and openly expressed that he was signing his death warrant. Prime Minister Menachem Begin presumed political suicide. They all ended up being right. (President Carter was not reelected. Sadat was assassinated the next year by fundamentalists opposed to the Accords. Begin lived out his life as a recluse.) Yet they were willing to risk everything for the cause of peace in the Middle East.
As each member of the panel offered concluding remarks, their agreement settled on the conviction, largely of President Carter, to courageously push ahead when his absence from the public eye at a time of much turmoil in his presidency almost assured his defeat. Several times during his presidency, Rafshoon said of Carter, he insisted on doing what he thought was the "right" thing, even while risking significant political costs. The willingness of a leader to take those risks today could enable such an effort again, they agreed.
During the course of dialogue between the panel and the audience, at one point the conversation drifted from Camp David to examine similar parallels between President Johnson and the Civil Rights Act. Long before Vietnam sealed his presidential fate, Johnson had made the decision to pursue civil rights legislation, even when he'd been assured that it would cost him reelection. Paraphrasing, Johnson had said, "If I can't do something about civil rights, what good is the presidency?"
Abraham Lincoln and Mohandas Gandhi were similar men of conviction who paid the ultimate price to do what was right.
In Leading from the Heart I described leadership as beginning when one person believes he or she can make a difference and then having the faith and conviction to pursue what they can to make that difference. If the leader can dream it, I said, the true leader sets about to make it happen. These were men dreaming something bigger than themselves and then acting the courage of their convictions, without concern for the personal consequences.
The course of human history has been punctuated by a few courageous souls who were unwilling to sit with the status quo and chose to create meaningful change. There is something that each of us can do to make the world a better place. Still we often hold back for fear of personal consequences. The message on the back of each of our hearts is nagging at us to do something. ("Intention," 3/13/14) The next time I feel that strong tug, I will remember Camp David and the courage of those men to make peace.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Friday, April 25, 2014
Do Something Different
Yesterday I wrote about feeling the prickliness of being in the middle of a transformation phase. There is an unsettledness that has been with me for months, but I didn't realize how many months until I looked back for an earlier post in which I described "feeling pregnant" in anticipation of something new coming. (Pregnant, 11/2/13) I have been having these feelings for six months.
Patience has not been one of my strong suits. Once I've been able to decide what the next step is, I want to be on with it. Waiting for months is counter-rational for me. That is exactly the problem. When we grow spiritually, by definition, the process is a counter-rational one. The Universe functions on its own time schedule, not ours. I understand that, AND I am ready to be through this transition.
Yet, I am attempting to be very intentional about allowing the process and not forcing it.
This morning I had my monthly call with a Canadian friend who shares the spiritual journey. I shared with him my frustration with feeling pregnant for months and being prickly with people I really like. I asked him for suggestions about how to move the process. Almost immediately, he responded to approach life differently. "Walk up the stairs backwards, or get into the shower from the opposite end."
His words resonated with me immediately. I recalled final guidance at the end of a personal growth seminar 25 years ago in which the leader said, "Do something different."
I headed out to run errands by walking up the hill behind my building backwards. Later I walked up three flights of stairs backwards. Both stimulated observations. In each case, I had to really pay attention. That meant that I had to be really present; if I hadn't concentrated, I think I might have fallen. Walking up the hill, which I climb at least two or three times a week, I noticed things in the woods that I hadn't noticed before. I am not sure whether I just haven't paid attention before or if it was looking down instead of up that was responsible. The stairs that I usually bolt up effortlessly two at a time winded me when I climbed backwards. Both the hill and the stairs seemed much longer than usual.
I was hungry so I ate dinner much earlier than usual...just because I was hungry. Instead of my usual salad, I ate pizza. And, although this was my day to clean the house, I took a nap instead.
Now I am not sure what all of this has to do with accelerating my transition, but I am certain that anything that forces me to be more present and to listen to my inner needs/desires rather than going through the day on autopilot is a good thing, even if my chores weren't completed.
I am a night owl, and I usually relish the weekends so I can stay up and be on "my" schedule, instead of the one driven by the rest of the world. But, tonight it is early, and I am feeling tired. I have a book I'd like to finish. I think I'll do something different and go to bed early and read. Who knows what my dreams will bring when I am really paying attention?
Patience has not been one of my strong suits. Once I've been able to decide what the next step is, I want to be on with it. Waiting for months is counter-rational for me. That is exactly the problem. When we grow spiritually, by definition, the process is a counter-rational one. The Universe functions on its own time schedule, not ours. I understand that, AND I am ready to be through this transition.
Yet, I am attempting to be very intentional about allowing the process and not forcing it.
This morning I had my monthly call with a Canadian friend who shares the spiritual journey. I shared with him my frustration with feeling pregnant for months and being prickly with people I really like. I asked him for suggestions about how to move the process. Almost immediately, he responded to approach life differently. "Walk up the stairs backwards, or get into the shower from the opposite end."
His words resonated with me immediately. I recalled final guidance at the end of a personal growth seminar 25 years ago in which the leader said, "Do something different."
I headed out to run errands by walking up the hill behind my building backwards. Later I walked up three flights of stairs backwards. Both stimulated observations. In each case, I had to really pay attention. That meant that I had to be really present; if I hadn't concentrated, I think I might have fallen. Walking up the hill, which I climb at least two or three times a week, I noticed things in the woods that I hadn't noticed before. I am not sure whether I just haven't paid attention before or if it was looking down instead of up that was responsible. The stairs that I usually bolt up effortlessly two at a time winded me when I climbed backwards. Both the hill and the stairs seemed much longer than usual.
I was hungry so I ate dinner much earlier than usual...just because I was hungry. Instead of my usual salad, I ate pizza. And, although this was my day to clean the house, I took a nap instead.
Now I am not sure what all of this has to do with accelerating my transition, but I am certain that anything that forces me to be more present and to listen to my inner needs/desires rather than going through the day on autopilot is a good thing, even if my chores weren't completed.
I am a night owl, and I usually relish the weekends so I can stay up and be on "my" schedule, instead of the one driven by the rest of the world. But, tonight it is early, and I am feeling tired. I have a book I'd like to finish. I think I'll do something different and go to bed early and read. Who knows what my dreams will bring when I am really paying attention?
Prickly
I started the day angry. I woke up 50 minutes early, which might not be such a bad thing except that I was very tired. I made the decision to go to bed 50 minutes early to get much needed sleep. Then I woke up 50 minutes early and realized that I haven't gained any ground. I thought I would just roll over and go back to sleep and get the extra rest I needed. Not! My head was spinning.
First, I had a painful thought that I'd been a little short with a colleague yesterday afternoon. She is the best person I've ever worked with, so she should be the last person I'd be short with, but I was. Why did I do that? Yes, why?
I've been feeling prickly lately. One perspective of spiritual growth uses the snake as a metaphor. I know that is almost the antithesis of the Abrahamic traditions, which conceive the serpent as the symbol of the fall-from-grace of humankind--the reason Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, but the metaphor really does work.
When a snake grows, it outgrows its skin. Every spurt of growth requires a new skin. The too-small skin must be shed before a new, larger one can take its place. During the transition period, the flesh of the snake is tender until it "toughens up," and the animal is easily agitated because of the physical discomfort.
By that metaphor, life is a succession of growth--> shed skin--> discomfort-->comfort-->growth...etc.
Using the snake metaphor implies growing into a new skin results in "feeling prickly" for a while to facilitate spiritual growth to the next level. I hope that my prickliness at my colleague really does mean that I am growing, but it feels like just the opposite.
My current job requires about 1/1000 of my capability; I am capable of so much more. I am bored. When I have sought to use more of my capacity, I've been thrown work that is even less challenging. I wouldn't feel so bad if there weren't a need, but there is...everywhere.
As I look out of my apartment to the fresh green of budding trees, I am once again reminded of growth and moving forward in time, signaled by the changing of the seasons. I love to learn, and I love to grow. I realize that unlike the trees in the park, I have not been learning, growing, and changing. I am taking a couple of classes, but they will allow me to receive credentials for material I already know. I believe what I need is something to learn, something that will allow me to grow. Maybe my prickliness is the result of stagnation.
For most of my life, my growth has been around my work, but clearly the current environment at my workplace isn't hospitable to that. So, I am going to look around me for opportunities to grow elsewhere in my life. I recall being energized with some art history courses that I took a few years ago. I am certain that I can find something that will break me out of my current skin, and I am betting that, even if I do have a "new tender skin," I will feel less prickly in no time.
First, I had a painful thought that I'd been a little short with a colleague yesterday afternoon. She is the best person I've ever worked with, so she should be the last person I'd be short with, but I was. Why did I do that? Yes, why?
I've been feeling prickly lately. One perspective of spiritual growth uses the snake as a metaphor. I know that is almost the antithesis of the Abrahamic traditions, which conceive the serpent as the symbol of the fall-from-grace of humankind--the reason Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, but the metaphor really does work.
When a snake grows, it outgrows its skin. Every spurt of growth requires a new skin. The too-small skin must be shed before a new, larger one can take its place. During the transition period, the flesh of the snake is tender until it "toughens up," and the animal is easily agitated because of the physical discomfort.
By that metaphor, life is a succession of growth--> shed skin--> discomfort-->comfort-->growth...etc.
Using the snake metaphor implies growing into a new skin results in "feeling prickly" for a while to facilitate spiritual growth to the next level. I hope that my prickliness at my colleague really does mean that I am growing, but it feels like just the opposite.
My current job requires about 1/1000 of my capability; I am capable of so much more. I am bored. When I have sought to use more of my capacity, I've been thrown work that is even less challenging. I wouldn't feel so bad if there weren't a need, but there is...everywhere.
As I look out of my apartment to the fresh green of budding trees, I am once again reminded of growth and moving forward in time, signaled by the changing of the seasons. I love to learn, and I love to grow. I realize that unlike the trees in the park, I have not been learning, growing, and changing. I am taking a couple of classes, but they will allow me to receive credentials for material I already know. I believe what I need is something to learn, something that will allow me to grow. Maybe my prickliness is the result of stagnation.
For most of my life, my growth has been around my work, but clearly the current environment at my workplace isn't hospitable to that. So, I am going to look around me for opportunities to grow elsewhere in my life. I recall being energized with some art history courses that I took a few years ago. I am certain that I can find something that will break me out of my current skin, and I am betting that, even if I do have a "new tender skin," I will feel less prickly in no time.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Dance as a Metaphor
I was having lunch recently with someone, who shares my love for dancing. We do different kinds of dance, but each of us enjoy our respective sports. Our conversation had covered many topics but most were spiritual in nature. As we talked about dance, I said to her, "I think that dance is a metaphor for our relationship with God." She was eager to hear more.
To start with, we need to be in agreement with God about what we are creating. When we share the intention to fulfill the purpose for us being in human form with God, it is like dancing with a great dance partner with whom we want to cocreate a wonderful dance experience.
Of course, knowing our respective parts is important. I am sure that God knows His part, just as I trust that most of the better leaders with whom I dance know their parts. But as a follower, I must know how to execute the figures in which I am led. If he leads something I don't know, then I am probably not going to do very well. I have put in lots of hours learning and practicing many figures so that I can respond appropriately to whatever is led.
The same is true with my relationship with God. I've been given certain gifts and talents, and it is my responsibility to develop and practice them so when I get a lead to use them, I have the skill to follow. I think that I have a gift for writing, which I've honed since grade school. I was a high school journalist and studied writing in college. Every job that I've had has required me to do some kind of writing, allowing me more practice. In a meditation in 1993, when I was asked to write a book, I had the developed the talent to execute "the figure that God led."
Similarly, I began speaking before large groups of people, up to 350 at a time, when I was in junior high school because young people at my church were expected to speak to the congregation from time to time. Over the years, I had many opportunities to speak and took them. When Leading from the Heart came out, and I was solicited for keynote addresses, I had developed my talents, so that I could follow the lead.
While it is important for me to know my part, I have periodically had the opportunity to dance with a leader who is so excellent, that he can lead me through a figure I've never done. If I maintain good technique, the leader's skill will carry me. I've had those kind of experiences in my dance with God as well, when I've encountered a situation new to me, but I've been able to flow through it, as long as I kept listening intently.
As important to note, however, is what I shouldn't do in my dance with God. To put it simply, "Don't resist!" There are two ways that I can resist in dance, and I think both apply to my relationship with God as well. On occasion, for some reason I feel like doing a particular step. Often, doing so is the result of a habit: people that I have danced with a lot do a particular sequence of figures, and I don't pay attention to where my leader is going. Off I go in other direction. It isn't pretty.
When I am dancing, I have to remember who is leading and who is following. If I second guess or anticipate my partner, again I go off in another direction. Once again, it isn't pretty.
I think that we often get so caught up in habitual living that we forget to really listen to what God is saying right now. We just autopilot along and miss the lead. Similarly, if we try to figure out where God is going on, and we try to take over the controls, I can almost promise it is not going to be a good experience. The partnership has to be a 1:1 relationship. God leads; we follow. One step at a time. Then God leads again; we follow again.
Years before I moved to Washington, God had been telling me to move here. I thought I'd do it my way and find a job here first. That wasn't what I was supposed to do. I was not only not successful finding a job before I finally moved, but God seemed to need to strip me of most everything I had in North Carolina to get me to move. Finally, and fortunately, I got it.
Like my advice to the homeless man in yesterday's blog, we just have to listen and follow. When we do, we can do a beautiful dance with God.
To start with, we need to be in agreement with God about what we are creating. When we share the intention to fulfill the purpose for us being in human form with God, it is like dancing with a great dance partner with whom we want to cocreate a wonderful dance experience.
Of course, knowing our respective parts is important. I am sure that God knows His part, just as I trust that most of the better leaders with whom I dance know their parts. But as a follower, I must know how to execute the figures in which I am led. If he leads something I don't know, then I am probably not going to do very well. I have put in lots of hours learning and practicing many figures so that I can respond appropriately to whatever is led.
The same is true with my relationship with God. I've been given certain gifts and talents, and it is my responsibility to develop and practice them so when I get a lead to use them, I have the skill to follow. I think that I have a gift for writing, which I've honed since grade school. I was a high school journalist and studied writing in college. Every job that I've had has required me to do some kind of writing, allowing me more practice. In a meditation in 1993, when I was asked to write a book, I had the developed the talent to execute "the figure that God led."
Similarly, I began speaking before large groups of people, up to 350 at a time, when I was in junior high school because young people at my church were expected to speak to the congregation from time to time. Over the years, I had many opportunities to speak and took them. When Leading from the Heart came out, and I was solicited for keynote addresses, I had developed my talents, so that I could follow the lead.
While it is important for me to know my part, I have periodically had the opportunity to dance with a leader who is so excellent, that he can lead me through a figure I've never done. If I maintain good technique, the leader's skill will carry me. I've had those kind of experiences in my dance with God as well, when I've encountered a situation new to me, but I've been able to flow through it, as long as I kept listening intently.
As important to note, however, is what I shouldn't do in my dance with God. To put it simply, "Don't resist!" There are two ways that I can resist in dance, and I think both apply to my relationship with God as well. On occasion, for some reason I feel like doing a particular step. Often, doing so is the result of a habit: people that I have danced with a lot do a particular sequence of figures, and I don't pay attention to where my leader is going. Off I go in other direction. It isn't pretty.
When I am dancing, I have to remember who is leading and who is following. If I second guess or anticipate my partner, again I go off in another direction. Once again, it isn't pretty.
I think that we often get so caught up in habitual living that we forget to really listen to what God is saying right now. We just autopilot along and miss the lead. Similarly, if we try to figure out where God is going on, and we try to take over the controls, I can almost promise it is not going to be a good experience. The partnership has to be a 1:1 relationship. God leads; we follow. One step at a time. Then God leads again; we follow again.
Years before I moved to Washington, God had been telling me to move here. I thought I'd do it my way and find a job here first. That wasn't what I was supposed to do. I was not only not successful finding a job before I finally moved, but God seemed to need to strip me of most everything I had in North Carolina to get me to move. Finally, and fortunately, I got it.
Like my advice to the homeless man in yesterday's blog, we just have to listen and follow. When we do, we can do a beautiful dance with God.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Great Advice from a Surprising Source
There are more homeless people in Washington than there should be, and on Easter Sunday they are out in force, soliciting hand-outs from people who are dressed in their best "church clothes." So it as that I was walking from having had lunch with a friend after church, when a man on a bench explained to me that he was a little down on his luck and asked for money.
Those who have read this blog for a while will recall that my encounters with the homeless have sometimes ended up being humbling for me. (See "Expect the Unexpected," 12/14/13) Why should I expect one on Easter Sunday to be any different?
I explained that I felt it was important to trade life energy with life energy. I had spent my life energy earning money, so if I were to give him my life energy in the form of money, he would have to give me something of value in exchange. He was a bit startled, and then he thought for a moment. Slowly he got a grin on his face as he pondered what he could give me. "I'll give you a quote which will change your life."
I agreed that would be a good trade, so he started with one quote, but stopped. "No," he said, "I've got a better one." Then he said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind..." I recognized it instantly as being most of the New Testament scripture of Mark 12:30. I said that I was certain that would change my life. Then I asked him, "If that is such good advice, why aren't you following it?"
A bit startled again, he told me that he prayed every day, and he told me what he prayed. "Do you listen to what God says?" I asked. He seemed dumbstruck. "God will tell you how to get out of your fix, but you have to take time to listen to what he says."
"I will," he said, "I will!"
With that I handled him some money, and I told him that I was sure he was right, "Your quote will change my life, and it will change yours, too." With that I continued on my way.
His quote was a good reminder, and my advice to him was good advice to me.
When asked how she could work with the lowest of the low in India, Mother Teresa is said to have responded, "I look at all of them as if they are Jesus in one of his most distressing disguises." I think I understand. I often think that God shows up as a homeless person to have a conversation with me that I really need to have. Today I am sure of it.
Those who have read this blog for a while will recall that my encounters with the homeless have sometimes ended up being humbling for me. (See "Expect the Unexpected," 12/14/13) Why should I expect one on Easter Sunday to be any different?
I explained that I felt it was important to trade life energy with life energy. I had spent my life energy earning money, so if I were to give him my life energy in the form of money, he would have to give me something of value in exchange. He was a bit startled, and then he thought for a moment. Slowly he got a grin on his face as he pondered what he could give me. "I'll give you a quote which will change your life."
I agreed that would be a good trade, so he started with one quote, but stopped. "No," he said, "I've got a better one." Then he said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind..." I recognized it instantly as being most of the New Testament scripture of Mark 12:30. I said that I was certain that would change my life. Then I asked him, "If that is such good advice, why aren't you following it?"
A bit startled again, he told me that he prayed every day, and he told me what he prayed. "Do you listen to what God says?" I asked. He seemed dumbstruck. "God will tell you how to get out of your fix, but you have to take time to listen to what he says."
"I will," he said, "I will!"
With that I handled him some money, and I told him that I was sure he was right, "Your quote will change my life, and it will change yours, too." With that I continued on my way.
His quote was a good reminder, and my advice to him was good advice to me.
When asked how she could work with the lowest of the low in India, Mother Teresa is said to have responded, "I look at all of them as if they are Jesus in one of his most distressing disguises." I think I understand. I often think that God shows up as a homeless person to have a conversation with me that I really need to have. Today I am sure of it.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Committing Sacrilege in Several Religions
As we approach the end of a week of religious observances, I am going to admit and advise in advance that I am about to commit what may be considered sacrilege in more than one religion. If you don't want to be a witness, please click off this page now. Otherwise, you have been warned.
I was seated in a three-hour Good Friday service yesterday, which was quite moving. I wasn't consciously thinking about anything else, but I have noticed that my inspirations often come when I am not thinking. The word "inspire" derives from ancient Greek words that mean "to breathe in." That's how inspirations happen for me. One minute nothing; the next something I hadn't thought about before is just there, as if it floated in on the last breath I took. So it is that about two hours into the service, there was an inspiration.
The sacrilege to which I've admitted is in moving away from the literal interpretation of religious stories and into the metaphorical. What does the Seder story mean to me? What does the crucifixion story mean to me? What do I do today because of these lessons? Then there is also the concept of God as Source within us, connecting us with all that is, as opposed to God as an anthropomorphic Being external to us. I lean to the former concept, which is why I treat inspirations as a message from God to me.
The Seder story is one of God leading the Jews out of slavery in Egypt. That is accomplished because they listened to what God said to them and followed his guidance out of their imprisonment.
The crucifixion story is one that we are imprisoned by our sins and that by his death on the cross, Jesus is liberating us from imprisonment by out sins. Sins are often considered as arbitrary lists of "rights" and "wrongs." It is a sin to kill or steal or commit adultery. I am interested in "sin" as an archery term which says we missed the bull's-eye or fell short in being what we know we could be and need to change our aim--take steps to be where we want to be.
The question that has always troubled me is what it means to be freed of our sins. Does Jesus' death free us of killing 100,000 people or does it free us if we kill one, have remorse, and aim our lives in a different direction? After all, Jesus did say that his followers would be known by their actions, which would imply that they wouldn't willy-nilly be killing people just because they thought they had a free pass. And, what about soldiers at war who killed people to stop someone like Hitler who might kill even more?
However, since I don't think I've ever been even inadvertently responsible for a death and hope never to be, how many people I can safely kill does not keep me awake at night. What has troubled me increasingly in recent days is how I free myself from a self-imposed prison. Tomorrow Lent will end. I guess technically we could say that it ends after sunset tonight, when the Jews usually mark the beginning of holy days, or is it after sunrise tomorrow, when Jesus was supposedly liberated from the tomb?
After almost 40 days without sugar, its derivative alcohol, and artificial sweeteners, I am certain that most of the time (except for these 40 days each year,) I live in a prison constructed by sweet stuff. I have been pretty good about keeping Lent. In the first few days, I did discover I'd unintentionally slipped before I started reading labels. Who knew that peanut butter, Santé Fe tortilla strips, and mayonnaise all contain sugar? I discovered that when I found myself craving peanut butter after I'd eliminated more obvious sources of sweets from my diet.
I do this each year. Will I or won't I add sugar back? One year I abstained until December when I was bombarded by sugary treats. I know that even a bite or a single glass of wine is a slippery slope back into my addiction. Without it, I feel better, I am more energetic, and I am six pounds lighter, meaning that I am now back into most of the pants that I haven't gotten into since Thanksgiving.
But yesterday in church, when I realized that sugar had imprisoned me, this question was contexted differently. I felt as if God were speaking directly to me as He/She had the enslaved Jews in Egypt. I know what I need to do to find freedom, all I have to do is follow what I know I am to do. When I wrote about the Jews following God's direction out of slavery earlier in the week, to just follow seemed a much easier choice. In the Christian context, am I freed from my sin of sugar once or 100,000 times? Should people be able to tell by watching my behaviors that I am not following the Sugar God rather than one who promised freedom?
I wish I could say I will walk away from it. I tell myself that it would be easier if I were an alcoholic or a drug addict where my behaviors would have more destructive consequences, but would it? I am sure the alcoholics and drug addicts would say it is the same. Even as I've been writing this, I received a text from a friend, asking me if I was going to have wine at a social function we plan to attend together. I had to respond that I didn't really know. I don't. I hate that about me, but it is true. I wish I could walk away from it, but I don't know that.
I want to be known as a woman of integrity, and for me my relationship with sugar deeply impedes my integrity. I am a conflicted woman with sugar in my body. Yet I know that when we wrestle with personal demons, they are always with us. Yet I cannot not know what I know: sugar is a prison for me. Somehow framing the issue as ones of integrity or walking into freedom makes the decision easier--easier, not easy. Now I know. I will not partake...today. This is definitely a one-day-at-time venture: all I have to do is stay true to myself for one day...and then another...and another.
I was seated in a three-hour Good Friday service yesterday, which was quite moving. I wasn't consciously thinking about anything else, but I have noticed that my inspirations often come when I am not thinking. The word "inspire" derives from ancient Greek words that mean "to breathe in." That's how inspirations happen for me. One minute nothing; the next something I hadn't thought about before is just there, as if it floated in on the last breath I took. So it is that about two hours into the service, there was an inspiration.
The sacrilege to which I've admitted is in moving away from the literal interpretation of religious stories and into the metaphorical. What does the Seder story mean to me? What does the crucifixion story mean to me? What do I do today because of these lessons? Then there is also the concept of God as Source within us, connecting us with all that is, as opposed to God as an anthropomorphic Being external to us. I lean to the former concept, which is why I treat inspirations as a message from God to me.
The Seder story is one of God leading the Jews out of slavery in Egypt. That is accomplished because they listened to what God said to them and followed his guidance out of their imprisonment.
The crucifixion story is one that we are imprisoned by our sins and that by his death on the cross, Jesus is liberating us from imprisonment by out sins. Sins are often considered as arbitrary lists of "rights" and "wrongs." It is a sin to kill or steal or commit adultery. I am interested in "sin" as an archery term which says we missed the bull's-eye or fell short in being what we know we could be and need to change our aim--take steps to be where we want to be.
The question that has always troubled me is what it means to be freed of our sins. Does Jesus' death free us of killing 100,000 people or does it free us if we kill one, have remorse, and aim our lives in a different direction? After all, Jesus did say that his followers would be known by their actions, which would imply that they wouldn't willy-nilly be killing people just because they thought they had a free pass. And, what about soldiers at war who killed people to stop someone like Hitler who might kill even more?
However, since I don't think I've ever been even inadvertently responsible for a death and hope never to be, how many people I can safely kill does not keep me awake at night. What has troubled me increasingly in recent days is how I free myself from a self-imposed prison. Tomorrow Lent will end. I guess technically we could say that it ends after sunset tonight, when the Jews usually mark the beginning of holy days, or is it after sunrise tomorrow, when Jesus was supposedly liberated from the tomb?
After almost 40 days without sugar, its derivative alcohol, and artificial sweeteners, I am certain that most of the time (except for these 40 days each year,) I live in a prison constructed by sweet stuff. I have been pretty good about keeping Lent. In the first few days, I did discover I'd unintentionally slipped before I started reading labels. Who knew that peanut butter, Santé Fe tortilla strips, and mayonnaise all contain sugar? I discovered that when I found myself craving peanut butter after I'd eliminated more obvious sources of sweets from my diet.
I do this each year. Will I or won't I add sugar back? One year I abstained until December when I was bombarded by sugary treats. I know that even a bite or a single glass of wine is a slippery slope back into my addiction. Without it, I feel better, I am more energetic, and I am six pounds lighter, meaning that I am now back into most of the pants that I haven't gotten into since Thanksgiving.
But yesterday in church, when I realized that sugar had imprisoned me, this question was contexted differently. I felt as if God were speaking directly to me as He/She had the enslaved Jews in Egypt. I know what I need to do to find freedom, all I have to do is follow what I know I am to do. When I wrote about the Jews following God's direction out of slavery earlier in the week, to just follow seemed a much easier choice. In the Christian context, am I freed from my sin of sugar once or 100,000 times? Should people be able to tell by watching my behaviors that I am not following the Sugar God rather than one who promised freedom?
I wish I could say I will walk away from it. I tell myself that it would be easier if I were an alcoholic or a drug addict where my behaviors would have more destructive consequences, but would it? I am sure the alcoholics and drug addicts would say it is the same. Even as I've been writing this, I received a text from a friend, asking me if I was going to have wine at a social function we plan to attend together. I had to respond that I didn't really know. I don't. I hate that about me, but it is true. I wish I could walk away from it, but I don't know that.
I want to be known as a woman of integrity, and for me my relationship with sugar deeply impedes my integrity. I am a conflicted woman with sugar in my body. Yet I know that when we wrestle with personal demons, they are always with us. Yet I cannot not know what I know: sugar is a prison for me. Somehow framing the issue as ones of integrity or walking into freedom makes the decision easier--easier, not easy. Now I know. I will not partake...today. This is definitely a one-day-at-time venture: all I have to do is stay true to myself for one day...and then another...and another.
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
Bitter and Sweet
This year was the third during which I participated in Seder at Passover, so while I am beginning to be more familiar with ritual celebration, I am still deeply in learning mode. For me that learning inevitably brings reflection on meaning. Last night I noticed aspects that I had missed when I was totally new to the experience.
For those who have not participated in a Seder before, there are certain foods of which we partake to remind us of the flight of the enslaved Jewish people from Egypt. (See "Seder" 4/14/14). For example, unleavened bread is eaten as a reminder that the Jews fled so quickly that there was no time to make, rise, and bake bread.
Last night the message that caught special attention for me was that of the mixture and often juxtaposition of bitterness and sweetness in life. Symbolically, we ate a mixture of bitter herbs (horseradish) and a most wonderful sweet mixture of apples, honey, cinnamon, and walnuts, called charoset.
What really grabbed me is that when a circumstance is generally negative, I often forget to look beyond the bitter to notice the sweet. When I focus on the bitter and ignore the sweet, I rob myself of life sweetness. The nature of my work as an organization development (OD) consultant in my current role is to deal with troubled workplace environments, and I have often forgotten what is working well. (Not all OD is like this!)
Even more remarkable to me is that, as odd as it may seem, the mixture of the sweet and bitter produced its own unique and pleasant flavor. I think for much of my life I was unduly focused only on the positives in life. Now I have swung a bit more in the opposite direction. In either scenario I limit the complex and interesting "flavor" that the combination creates.
In the future I will make it my intention to accept the bitter with grace, look for the sweet with more deliberation, and embrace the richness that the combination brings to my life.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
For those who have not participated in a Seder before, there are certain foods of which we partake to remind us of the flight of the enslaved Jewish people from Egypt. (See "Seder" 4/14/14). For example, unleavened bread is eaten as a reminder that the Jews fled so quickly that there was no time to make, rise, and bake bread.
Last night the message that caught special attention for me was that of the mixture and often juxtaposition of bitterness and sweetness in life. Symbolically, we ate a mixture of bitter herbs (horseradish) and a most wonderful sweet mixture of apples, honey, cinnamon, and walnuts, called charoset.
What really grabbed me is that when a circumstance is generally negative, I often forget to look beyond the bitter to notice the sweet. When I focus on the bitter and ignore the sweet, I rob myself of life sweetness. The nature of my work as an organization development (OD) consultant in my current role is to deal with troubled workplace environments, and I have often forgotten what is working well. (Not all OD is like this!)
Even more remarkable to me is that, as odd as it may seem, the mixture of the sweet and bitter produced its own unique and pleasant flavor. I think for much of my life I was unduly focused only on the positives in life. Now I have swung a bit more in the opposite direction. In either scenario I limit the complex and interesting "flavor" that the combination creates.
In the future I will make it my intention to accept the bitter with grace, look for the sweet with more deliberation, and embrace the richness that the combination brings to my life.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday, April 14, 2014
Passover
Just after dusk tonight, the commemoration of Passover began, and it will continue until dusk tomorrow. The story behind Passover is familiar to all three Abrahamic traditions--Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.
To refresh for those who may have forgotten and to share for those who may not know, God led the Israelites, who had been held in slavery in Egypt, to freedom. It is said that God sent 10 plagues to Egypt, and the last and worst was the death of first-born children. "The Israelites were instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with the blood of a slaughtered spring lamb and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the Lord knew to pass over the first-born in these homes, hence the English name of the holiday."*
I remember being fascinated by this story as a child, and I am almost as moved by it today. Besides being the most important Jewish holiday and foundational in Christianity, this story is one of the most beloved in Islam, as well.
Just think about it: these people were slaves, and they just trusted that God would lead them from slavery. All they needed to do was slaughter a lamb and mark their homes. While Passover is primarily observed as a celebration of freedom, for me it is also a story of complete trust and obedience. I find Passover a reminder--a reminder that we can find freedom every day by trusting and obeying wherever God leads us.
Remember, trust, obey...freedom!
*Wikipedia
To refresh for those who may have forgotten and to share for those who may not know, God led the Israelites, who had been held in slavery in Egypt, to freedom. It is said that God sent 10 plagues to Egypt, and the last and worst was the death of first-born children. "The Israelites were instructed to mark the doorposts of their homes with the blood of a slaughtered spring lamb and, upon seeing this, the spirit of the Lord knew to pass over the first-born in these homes, hence the English name of the holiday."*
I remember being fascinated by this story as a child, and I am almost as moved by it today. Besides being the most important Jewish holiday and foundational in Christianity, this story is one of the most beloved in Islam, as well.
Just think about it: these people were slaves, and they just trusted that God would lead them from slavery. All they needed to do was slaughter a lamb and mark their homes. While Passover is primarily observed as a celebration of freedom, for me it is also a story of complete trust and obedience. I find Passover a reminder--a reminder that we can find freedom every day by trusting and obeying wherever God leads us.
Remember, trust, obey...freedom!
*Wikipedia
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Sharing
I stumbled into a new program on my local NPR station tonight called, "The Really Big Questions." The "really big question" that was being explored tonight was "Why do people share?" I was intrigued, and I listened with rapt attention. Soon I was taking notes. Before I knew it, I could feel a blog post forming.
Contrary to what is suggested by the "economic survival of the fittest"--the assumption that we survive by trying to get more stuff for ourselves, it ends up that just the opposite is true. That didn't totally surprise me since, in my field of organizational behavior studies have long proven that people are more driven intrinsically than by external rewards, but I didn't really realize the extent to which research has shown that we feel better when we give than when we take and that asking people to do something for free leads to better inputs than when we pay for results.
In a number of studies, the results of a number of workplace studies demonstrated the same thing in other settings: offering to pay money for certain behaviors "messes up motivation." People won't do what they might have done without pay after money is offered. Even in settings in which we might normally have expected selfishness to prevail--sales teams--when team members gave to other members, the resulting team was more cohesive and performed better over the long run. There are even studies in which people will refuse their own reward if they feel that others have been treated unfairly but less equally.
Researcher Michael Norton at Harvard gave people money to spend. Some were told to spend it on themselves, and others were told to spend it on someone else. The least happy were those who spent on themselves, more happy were those who spent on someone else, and the most happy were those who gave to someone/something else that would make a positive difference in the world.
In all settings, people who gave with no expectation of receiving anything in return were happier than those who expected some kind of reciprocity.
Even Darwin from whom we have come to expect a one-against-another battle for survival, filmmaker Tom Shadyac told us in his film "I am," only used the term "survival of the fittest" twice, while using the word "love" 95 times. Cooperation, the film tells us, is the order among the most successful species.
A number of years ago I lived on a lake. I always loved this time of year when young life was springing forth in nature all around me. What I noticed very quickly is that baby geese survived at a much higher rate than baby ducks. The difference: geese parent communally, sharing the responsibility for the next generation, while ducks parented individually.
The geese would "post sentries" on the banks when their little ones where out of the water, and the sentries would happily "goose" passersby that came anywhere near their young. In the water, the adult geese would encircle the young, protecting them in all directions. In a given cohort of say 20-24 goslings, rarely would more than one or two lose their lives.
By contrast, a single duck might start with 12-14 ducklings, and within days that number would be cut in half. Rarely did more than one or two of a brood reach maturity, as the ducklings fell victim to house cats, snakes, catfish, and other predictors. Clearly the strategy of a single mother duck parenting her young flock was not as effective as the sharing and cooperation of the geese.
Last night I watched "It Could Happen To You," an old Nicholas Cage film, which explores three lottery winners and how they used their winnings. The one selfishly went on a spending spree, buying expensive clothing, furs, and enlarging her home. The other two had fun sharing their wealth. One day they showed up in a subway station and gave away subway tokens. Another day they rented Yankee Stadium for poor kids to play baseball like the big leaguers. One was a waitress who bought the diner in which she worked and set up a special table for those who couldn't afford to buy a meal. In the end, as you might expect, the two who gave the money were the happiest and were soon beloved by their whole city, while the greedy one ended up losing everything and being alone except for her mother.
"The Really Big Question" of "Why do people share?" was never definitively answered, but clearly we not only come out ahead, but we feel better when we do. I think I used to share more than I do now, but even as a small child, I was taught to tithe--give away 1/10th of what I earned. I am sure I no longer hit 10 percent, but there are a number of "causes" that I support because I think they make the world better. Like those in the study who were happiest giving to make the world better, I am happiest when I feel like in some small way I am making the world better.
We do have many things to give other than money. I think that is where I've fallen short. So, this evening, like many others, I give my words in this blog post in hopes that it will make the world better for all of us. Tomorrow I will look for others ways to share more of my time and talent.
Contrary to what is suggested by the "economic survival of the fittest"--the assumption that we survive by trying to get more stuff for ourselves, it ends up that just the opposite is true. That didn't totally surprise me since, in my field of organizational behavior studies have long proven that people are more driven intrinsically than by external rewards, but I didn't really realize the extent to which research has shown that we feel better when we give than when we take and that asking people to do something for free leads to better inputs than when we pay for results.
In a number of studies, the results of a number of workplace studies demonstrated the same thing in other settings: offering to pay money for certain behaviors "messes up motivation." People won't do what they might have done without pay after money is offered. Even in settings in which we might normally have expected selfishness to prevail--sales teams--when team members gave to other members, the resulting team was more cohesive and performed better over the long run. There are even studies in which people will refuse their own reward if they feel that others have been treated unfairly but less equally.
Researcher Michael Norton at Harvard gave people money to spend. Some were told to spend it on themselves, and others were told to spend it on someone else. The least happy were those who spent on themselves, more happy were those who spent on someone else, and the most happy were those who gave to someone/something else that would make a positive difference in the world.
In all settings, people who gave with no expectation of receiving anything in return were happier than those who expected some kind of reciprocity.
Even Darwin from whom we have come to expect a one-against-another battle for survival, filmmaker Tom Shadyac told us in his film "I am," only used the term "survival of the fittest" twice, while using the word "love" 95 times. Cooperation, the film tells us, is the order among the most successful species.
A number of years ago I lived on a lake. I always loved this time of year when young life was springing forth in nature all around me. What I noticed very quickly is that baby geese survived at a much higher rate than baby ducks. The difference: geese parent communally, sharing the responsibility for the next generation, while ducks parented individually.
The geese would "post sentries" on the banks when their little ones where out of the water, and the sentries would happily "goose" passersby that came anywhere near their young. In the water, the adult geese would encircle the young, protecting them in all directions. In a given cohort of say 20-24 goslings, rarely would more than one or two lose their lives.
By contrast, a single duck might start with 12-14 ducklings, and within days that number would be cut in half. Rarely did more than one or two of a brood reach maturity, as the ducklings fell victim to house cats, snakes, catfish, and other predictors. Clearly the strategy of a single mother duck parenting her young flock was not as effective as the sharing and cooperation of the geese.
Last night I watched "It Could Happen To You," an old Nicholas Cage film, which explores three lottery winners and how they used their winnings. The one selfishly went on a spending spree, buying expensive clothing, furs, and enlarging her home. The other two had fun sharing their wealth. One day they showed up in a subway station and gave away subway tokens. Another day they rented Yankee Stadium for poor kids to play baseball like the big leaguers. One was a waitress who bought the diner in which she worked and set up a special table for those who couldn't afford to buy a meal. In the end, as you might expect, the two who gave the money were the happiest and were soon beloved by their whole city, while the greedy one ended up losing everything and being alone except for her mother.
"The Really Big Question" of "Why do people share?" was never definitively answered, but clearly we not only come out ahead, but we feel better when we do. I think I used to share more than I do now, but even as a small child, I was taught to tithe--give away 1/10th of what I earned. I am sure I no longer hit 10 percent, but there are a number of "causes" that I support because I think they make the world better. Like those in the study who were happiest giving to make the world better, I am happiest when I feel like in some small way I am making the world better.
We do have many things to give other than money. I think that is where I've fallen short. So, this evening, like many others, I give my words in this blog post in hopes that it will make the world better for all of us. Tomorrow I will look for others ways to share more of my time and talent.
Friday, April 11, 2014
The Amazing Human Spirit
Recently, I wrote a post about "My Amazing Machine," a look at how remarkable our human bodies are. (3/30/14) Almost as quickly as I published that post, I had the thought, "What about your amazing spirit?" Hmm. I wrote a note that has been on my desk for two weeks: My Amazing Spirit. Well, what about it?
First of all, my spirit isn't the only one that is amazing. One of the remarkable things about us as human beings is the human spirit. I've written a lot about intention, listening to our hearts, and aspiring to do what we know is right in our hearts. When we have the spark of something in us, we seem to be driven to do it. A few months ago, I wrote about Olympic gold medallist Gaby Douglas, who was vaulting across her front yard as a pre-schooler. I recall seeing a movie about jazz singer Billie Holiday; she was singing with jazz records as a tween. If we listen, the "code" is within us, as much as our DNA.
Writing has been in me since I could hold a pencil. I have a knot on the side of my middle finger that I can remember forming probably by junior high school. I can't imagine what it would look like if computers hadn't come along 25 years ago. Well, maybe I could. My grandmother had the writer gene and had a knot on her middle finger that got gnarly as she grew older, suggesting there was something interesting to learn from this 92-year-old woman.
Our ability to experience wonder sets the human spirit apart among species. Whether when I walked on errands this afternoon amidst all the beautiful flowering trees, perfuming the air with their fragrance, watched the first sprout of a tulip breaking through the soil this week, or upon waking this morning noticed that bright spring green begin to show on budding trees behind my apartment, our ability the gasp in wonder is emblematic of the human spirit.
We also have an incredible capacity to feel connection. Sometimes I feel connected to a friend half a world away, remembering times spent together. Other times, I feel connected to those I don't even know, like this evening when I watched an interview with the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees, as he shared the plight of those impacted by war in several African locations. On truly remarkable days, I feel connected to all that is--God, nature, humanity: I can feel a ribbon of love that moves through all of us.
Closely related to connection is our ability to experience community. Community may be experienced in our families, churches or synagogues, schools, or neighbourhoods. Even our workplaces can allow us to feel the connection of common purpose. I've worked in newspapers, hospitals, and now a space agency, and in each there was the experience of pulling together to do something important.
Over the last several weeks, as the collegiate basketball season wrapped up in the United States, we had the opportunity to observe that sense of community that is team many times.
I am sure there are many ways in which our spirits are amazing, but I am often astounded at the resilience of the human spirit. I literally lost everything and somehow found the will to bounce back. I have had a couple of significant health challenges, but through will, and with the help of capable medical professionals, I fought my way back.
This evening I watched "The Book Thief," a remarkable story of a young woman in Nazi Germany, who lost two families--her biological one and then the one into which she'd been adopted, her closest friend, and her home. Literally out of the ashes she found her way to a fulfilling life.
I have reflected many times about former U. S. President Jimmy Carter, who suffered the worst defeat of any sitting president and resurrected himself to be author, humanitarian, Nobel Prize winner, and human rights advocate. The past 40 years of remarkable world service have been the result of his resilience in the face of that defeat.
So my "still small voice" within me that whispered, "What about your amazing spirit?" was right. The human spirit is pretty remarkable. Now that I think of it, I'll bet part of what is written on the back side of our hearts is how to be human, and, if we listen closely, how to fully experiencing the wonder of the human spirit.
First of all, my spirit isn't the only one that is amazing. One of the remarkable things about us as human beings is the human spirit. I've written a lot about intention, listening to our hearts, and aspiring to do what we know is right in our hearts. When we have the spark of something in us, we seem to be driven to do it. A few months ago, I wrote about Olympic gold medallist Gaby Douglas, who was vaulting across her front yard as a pre-schooler. I recall seeing a movie about jazz singer Billie Holiday; she was singing with jazz records as a tween. If we listen, the "code" is within us, as much as our DNA.
Writing has been in me since I could hold a pencil. I have a knot on the side of my middle finger that I can remember forming probably by junior high school. I can't imagine what it would look like if computers hadn't come along 25 years ago. Well, maybe I could. My grandmother had the writer gene and had a knot on her middle finger that got gnarly as she grew older, suggesting there was something interesting to learn from this 92-year-old woman.
Our ability to experience wonder sets the human spirit apart among species. Whether when I walked on errands this afternoon amidst all the beautiful flowering trees, perfuming the air with their fragrance, watched the first sprout of a tulip breaking through the soil this week, or upon waking this morning noticed that bright spring green begin to show on budding trees behind my apartment, our ability the gasp in wonder is emblematic of the human spirit.
We also have an incredible capacity to feel connection. Sometimes I feel connected to a friend half a world away, remembering times spent together. Other times, I feel connected to those I don't even know, like this evening when I watched an interview with the United Nations High Commissioner on Refugees, as he shared the plight of those impacted by war in several African locations. On truly remarkable days, I feel connected to all that is--God, nature, humanity: I can feel a ribbon of love that moves through all of us.
Closely related to connection is our ability to experience community. Community may be experienced in our families, churches or synagogues, schools, or neighbourhoods. Even our workplaces can allow us to feel the connection of common purpose. I've worked in newspapers, hospitals, and now a space agency, and in each there was the experience of pulling together to do something important.
Over the last several weeks, as the collegiate basketball season wrapped up in the United States, we had the opportunity to observe that sense of community that is team many times.
I am sure there are many ways in which our spirits are amazing, but I am often astounded at the resilience of the human spirit. I literally lost everything and somehow found the will to bounce back. I have had a couple of significant health challenges, but through will, and with the help of capable medical professionals, I fought my way back.
This evening I watched "The Book Thief," a remarkable story of a young woman in Nazi Germany, who lost two families--her biological one and then the one into which she'd been adopted, her closest friend, and her home. Literally out of the ashes she found her way to a fulfilling life.
I have reflected many times about former U. S. President Jimmy Carter, who suffered the worst defeat of any sitting president and resurrected himself to be author, humanitarian, Nobel Prize winner, and human rights advocate. The past 40 years of remarkable world service have been the result of his resilience in the face of that defeat.
So my "still small voice" within me that whispered, "What about your amazing spirit?" was right. The human spirit is pretty remarkable. Now that I think of it, I'll bet part of what is written on the back side of our hearts is how to be human, and, if we listen closely, how to fully experiencing the wonder of the human spirit.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Emotional Intelligence and Intention
Way back in graduate school, I remember studying the levels of learning: the next-to-highest level of learning was teaching. I intellectualized that concept, but it was much later, when I actually was teaching on a regular basis, that I really started to "get it."
Probably in my second year teaching at the university, I remember presenting something one day, and all of the sudden having a personal Aha! moment during which in an instant I connected content that I knew well in a whole new way. It was like a jigsaw puzzle that suddenly rearranged its pieces and created a totally different picture. It happens to me now and again, even with topics that I've written about significantly. If I say the new understanding out loud, it doesn't sound all that different than what I may have written, but on a gut level my understanding is quite different.
Spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said that her understanding of "energy anatomy" came to her while she was teaching a related class. I suspect that most of us who have taught material we know well have experienced something like this.
That is how one day I related "emotional intelligence" to "intention." Now I understand why I've enjoyed writing and teaching about both.
Because I am an Organization Development consultant and not a trainer, I rarely stand at the front of a classroom and teach any more. Instead, my coaching and consulting often afford me "teachable moments." By far more frequently than any other topic, emotional intelligence presents itself as a teachable moment. One day when I was coaching someone and writing on the board in back of my desk about emotional intelligence, it just came to me that my words were similar to ones I'd used with intention.
A number of authors and researchers have written about emotional intelligence, so the language is slightly different depending on who is writing. Five generally accepted elements comprise emotional intelligence:
My Aha! about emotional intelligence (EI) and intention came when I was talking about EI the day after I'd been writing about intention. The self-awareness piece of intention is that in order to live my intention, I need to listen to my heart and to learn what is written on the back side of it. Then, can I manage and motivate myself to act in accordance with what I know in my heart?
As simple as that. I say that tongue in cheek because I know full well how very difficult self-awareness, self-management, and self-motivation are. I've written in blog posts as recently as yesterday about my struggle being able to do what I know I need to do. Slow down, rest, exercise, skip sugar...you've heard them all.
I believe that none of us ever gets those pieces 100%. At least not in this world. A coaching client once surmised that when people got close to the 100% they were "called home." They had nothing more to learn.
What is important is that we have an awareness of what we want to create and, when we don't succeed, like falling off a horse, we climb back on and give it another try. I actually sat and ate lunch today. For two nights in a row, I've left the office only 30 minutes late, and I walked for 30 minutes through the beautiful spring weather and abundant blossoms. And, instead of preparing for a job interview I have tomorrow, I am doing what I love--writing. For this moment, I am totally at peace, and this moment is the only one that really counts.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Probably in my second year teaching at the university, I remember presenting something one day, and all of the sudden having a personal Aha! moment during which in an instant I connected content that I knew well in a whole new way. It was like a jigsaw puzzle that suddenly rearranged its pieces and created a totally different picture. It happens to me now and again, even with topics that I've written about significantly. If I say the new understanding out loud, it doesn't sound all that different than what I may have written, but on a gut level my understanding is quite different.
Spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said that her understanding of "energy anatomy" came to her while she was teaching a related class. I suspect that most of us who have taught material we know well have experienced something like this.
That is how one day I related "emotional intelligence" to "intention." Now I understand why I've enjoyed writing and teaching about both.
Because I am an Organization Development consultant and not a trainer, I rarely stand at the front of a classroom and teach any more. Instead, my coaching and consulting often afford me "teachable moments." By far more frequently than any other topic, emotional intelligence presents itself as a teachable moment. One day when I was coaching someone and writing on the board in back of my desk about emotional intelligence, it just came to me that my words were similar to ones I'd used with intention.
A number of authors and researchers have written about emotional intelligence, so the language is slightly different depending on who is writing. Five generally accepted elements comprise emotional intelligence:
- Self-awareness
- Self-management
- Self-motivation
- Empathy
- Social Skills
My Aha! about emotional intelligence (EI) and intention came when I was talking about EI the day after I'd been writing about intention. The self-awareness piece of intention is that in order to live my intention, I need to listen to my heart and to learn what is written on the back side of it. Then, can I manage and motivate myself to act in accordance with what I know in my heart?
As simple as that. I say that tongue in cheek because I know full well how very difficult self-awareness, self-management, and self-motivation are. I've written in blog posts as recently as yesterday about my struggle being able to do what I know I need to do. Slow down, rest, exercise, skip sugar...you've heard them all.
I believe that none of us ever gets those pieces 100%. At least not in this world. A coaching client once surmised that when people got close to the 100% they were "called home." They had nothing more to learn.
What is important is that we have an awareness of what we want to create and, when we don't succeed, like falling off a horse, we climb back on and give it another try. I actually sat and ate lunch today. For two nights in a row, I've left the office only 30 minutes late, and I walked for 30 minutes through the beautiful spring weather and abundant blossoms. And, instead of preparing for a job interview I have tomorrow, I am doing what I love--writing. For this moment, I am totally at peace, and this moment is the only one that really counts.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
If it is 12:29, it must be...
If it is 12:29, it must be time to swing the office refrigerator and grab some food to eat on the way to my 12:30 meeting. It is a good day: I have time to pick up the food on the way to my meeting. Some days I don't; other days it is 4 o'clock before I have time for my racing-grab-and-eat.
I have shared my struggle to find time to exercise since starting this blog seven months ago. I thought my struggle for time to meet basic human needs--food, exercise, rest--was me being out of control of my life. At the very least, I've conjectured, the problem is one of living in Washington at these times of brutal cuts in government budgets and the struggle to do more and more with fewer people. (We have about half the people we had a year ago, doing more work.)
This morning's paper informed me I am wrong. While I won't say those things aren't true, the article began quoting several people struggling with increasing stress levels as a result of the race with our clocks. The punch line, though, was that those quoted weren't Washingtonians, caught up in the frenzy I've experienced: they were all in Fargo, North Dakota. Now that was a shocker.
Running on the hamster wheel seems to be a common human state these days. I don't know if I feel pleased to learn that in a misery-loves-company sort of way, or depressed that there may be no hope of jumping off. The article says that those who have managed to jump off usually discover that life is short and there is a lot they want to do...so they jump back on.
Can this hamster-wheel approach to life really be considered...life?
When I think of the most wonderful moments of my life, they are the result of being totally present to the simple things in life. They have been things I've written about before: a simple dinner and movie with a friend on my coffee table, tending my garden, a wonderful Viennese waltz, a stroll through the woods on a spring day, or the touch by a loved one to my cheek.
Sadly, a lot of social pressure exists to stay on the hamster wheel, accepting four more assignments with deadlines this month and working longer and longer. I know that my productivity declines when I work like that and certainly my creativity comes to a dead stop. It would have been tragic if instead of leaving only 30 minutes late, I had stayed another 90 minutes and missed the walk I took through magnolia trees, forsythia, and daffodils in the majesty of a sunny-with-cobalt-blue-skies day in the nation's capitol. I did so with people watching me leave "early," which has come to mean only working 30 minutes late.
The lunacy of this whole situation is that I spent at least 30 minutes today in a meeting talking about the importance of work-life balance with the very people who were assigning the work that keeps me late. Go figure!
My intention--my target--has been to work sane hours and enjoy life, but I don't seem to have the will to stop. I really hope that the social pressure hasn't numbed my personal will. I am far ahead of where I was 24 hours ago. I hope reading that article and writing this post will reinforce to me what is important in life. I figure that even if I have to start over 100 times, that is way better than numbing out and being unaware. So, once again I refocus my intention on what is important...and hope I remember it at 5 o'clock tomorrow.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
I have shared my struggle to find time to exercise since starting this blog seven months ago. I thought my struggle for time to meet basic human needs--food, exercise, rest--was me being out of control of my life. At the very least, I've conjectured, the problem is one of living in Washington at these times of brutal cuts in government budgets and the struggle to do more and more with fewer people. (We have about half the people we had a year ago, doing more work.)
This morning's paper informed me I am wrong. While I won't say those things aren't true, the article began quoting several people struggling with increasing stress levels as a result of the race with our clocks. The punch line, though, was that those quoted weren't Washingtonians, caught up in the frenzy I've experienced: they were all in Fargo, North Dakota. Now that was a shocker.
Running on the hamster wheel seems to be a common human state these days. I don't know if I feel pleased to learn that in a misery-loves-company sort of way, or depressed that there may be no hope of jumping off. The article says that those who have managed to jump off usually discover that life is short and there is a lot they want to do...so they jump back on.
Can this hamster-wheel approach to life really be considered...life?
When I think of the most wonderful moments of my life, they are the result of being totally present to the simple things in life. They have been things I've written about before: a simple dinner and movie with a friend on my coffee table, tending my garden, a wonderful Viennese waltz, a stroll through the woods on a spring day, or the touch by a loved one to my cheek.
Sadly, a lot of social pressure exists to stay on the hamster wheel, accepting four more assignments with deadlines this month and working longer and longer. I know that my productivity declines when I work like that and certainly my creativity comes to a dead stop. It would have been tragic if instead of leaving only 30 minutes late, I had stayed another 90 minutes and missed the walk I took through magnolia trees, forsythia, and daffodils in the majesty of a sunny-with-cobalt-blue-skies day in the nation's capitol. I did so with people watching me leave "early," which has come to mean only working 30 minutes late.
The lunacy of this whole situation is that I spent at least 30 minutes today in a meeting talking about the importance of work-life balance with the very people who were assigning the work that keeps me late. Go figure!
My intention--my target--has been to work sane hours and enjoy life, but I don't seem to have the will to stop. I really hope that the social pressure hasn't numbed my personal will. I am far ahead of where I was 24 hours ago. I hope reading that article and writing this post will reinforce to me what is important in life. I figure that even if I have to start over 100 times, that is way better than numbing out and being unaware. So, once again I refocus my intention on what is important...and hope I remember it at 5 o'clock tomorrow.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Co-creation in Community
In The Alchemy of Fear I wrote about what I called co-creation in community. What I meant is that a group of people who work together to create something new that none of us could have created alone, but because of our shared commitment to a goal and our varied gifts and talents, we make magic happen...together.
In Leading from the Heart I told about a daily occurrence of co-creation in community that happened at the newspaper where I worked for the first several years of my professional career. In every 24-hour period, people from throughout the building would pull together separately, and somehow every day we produced a newspaper. Although it happened, literally, like clockwork at 1:10 p.m. every day, to me it was always a wonder.
Last week a group of people from my organization, many of whom had never met, assembled from sites all over the country. Together we co-created in community. It had been a very long time since I'd experienced that feeling. Work projects in recent years have almost always been assembled parts of individual work. The knowledge work equivalent of the old assembly line in factories.
Divide-and-conquer is how I used to describe it to my university students when I'd been assigning a group project. "I will know whether you have divided up the work and prepared your pieces individually or worked as a team," I'd say. Yet, in any given semester, rarely would more than one group actually work as a team. And, I did know it. In fact, their classmates knew it as well, but they may not have known exactly what they were observing. The students rated each other's presentations, and, inevitably, the ones that scored the highest were the ones that I thought had worked together as a team--unified in a common goal.
The design project in which I participated last week demonstrated the best co-creation. Each of us brought significant experience in design, but our various expertise was in different aspects, colored by different experiences in different organizations. Although there were a couple people, who tried to divide-and-conquer us, with the exception of one time, we resisted. The resistance wasn't unpleasant, and in fact, it might be more accurately described as persisting as a team rather than resisting fragmentation.
At the end of the second day of design, I am certain that we had accomplished way more than any of us had anticipated could be done in two days. Not only did we get more done, but the quality of the work was much more solid because it incorporated so many perspectives. Often an idea would be brought forth and we would play with the idea, collectively moulding it into something even better. It was the knowledge work equivalent of an old "barn-building," when everyone would assemble to construct a neighbor's barn in one day.
The word "team" or "teamwork" gets thrown around a lot these days: we have discovered the magic of co-creation in community in both expediency and quality. Yet my experience has been that the activities assessed as teamwork are really divide-and-conquer assembly of parallel projects. It happens everywhere: at work, in our families, in community groups, and even in churches.
Co-creating in community is really a sacred thing, touching the souls of those who engage together in making something that none could do alone. Doing so lifts the human spirit. I worked very hard last week, and at the end of the week, I had more energy than on a day off. My spirit had truly been lifted. I am grateful for this opportunity to have been touched by my work with this exceptional group of colleagues.
In Leading from the Heart I told about a daily occurrence of co-creation in community that happened at the newspaper where I worked for the first several years of my professional career. In every 24-hour period, people from throughout the building would pull together separately, and somehow every day we produced a newspaper. Although it happened, literally, like clockwork at 1:10 p.m. every day, to me it was always a wonder.
Last week a group of people from my organization, many of whom had never met, assembled from sites all over the country. Together we co-created in community. It had been a very long time since I'd experienced that feeling. Work projects in recent years have almost always been assembled parts of individual work. The knowledge work equivalent of the old assembly line in factories.
Divide-and-conquer is how I used to describe it to my university students when I'd been assigning a group project. "I will know whether you have divided up the work and prepared your pieces individually or worked as a team," I'd say. Yet, in any given semester, rarely would more than one group actually work as a team. And, I did know it. In fact, their classmates knew it as well, but they may not have known exactly what they were observing. The students rated each other's presentations, and, inevitably, the ones that scored the highest were the ones that I thought had worked together as a team--unified in a common goal.
The design project in which I participated last week demonstrated the best co-creation. Each of us brought significant experience in design, but our various expertise was in different aspects, colored by different experiences in different organizations. Although there were a couple people, who tried to divide-and-conquer us, with the exception of one time, we resisted. The resistance wasn't unpleasant, and in fact, it might be more accurately described as persisting as a team rather than resisting fragmentation.
At the end of the second day of design, I am certain that we had accomplished way more than any of us had anticipated could be done in two days. Not only did we get more done, but the quality of the work was much more solid because it incorporated so many perspectives. Often an idea would be brought forth and we would play with the idea, collectively moulding it into something even better. It was the knowledge work equivalent of an old "barn-building," when everyone would assemble to construct a neighbor's barn in one day.
The word "team" or "teamwork" gets thrown around a lot these days: we have discovered the magic of co-creation in community in both expediency and quality. Yet my experience has been that the activities assessed as teamwork are really divide-and-conquer assembly of parallel projects. It happens everywhere: at work, in our families, in community groups, and even in churches.
Co-creating in community is really a sacred thing, touching the souls of those who engage together in making something that none could do alone. Doing so lifts the human spirit. I worked very hard last week, and at the end of the week, I had more energy than on a day off. My spirit had truly been lifted. I am grateful for this opportunity to have been touched by my work with this exceptional group of colleagues.
Friday, April 4, 2014
A Walk On The Beach
After our second long day of design work, several of our team raced for planes. I wasn't able to make connections for tonight, so I decided to walk on the beach behind my hotel that had been seducing me since I arrived three days ago.
Heaven! If there is anything that will more instantly unwind me after several days of hard work than a walk on the beach, I certainly don't know what it is. This was a nearly perfect day for beach-walking: sunny, comfortably warm without being hot, and a slight breeze. As I hit the beach, a large tug boat with a cruise boat in tow pulled her far enough that she was able to carry her passengers on under her own power. Soon I spotted the tug returning without her precious cargo.
At one point, I stood and looked at the ocean on wonder. There was a timelessness about my gaze. Before me flashed all the other beaches I've walked on and other oceans, seas, and, as a girl, even the Great Lake Michigan. The children building sand castles, boogie boarders riding the small waves, and even the two white-haired women enjoying body surfing could have been on any of them.
What is it about any and all beaches that so mesmerizes me? There certainly is a magic of the ebbing and flowing of the tides, which so mysteriously, yet so predictably that there are tide tables, come and go twice a day. OK. I understand about the gravitational pull of the moon, but even how something on the moon changes the flow of the water on Mother Earth is a bit of a wonderment to me.
Yet as I continued my long walk, I thought what was the most wonderful and mysterious thing about beach-walking to me is that as I walked along the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean at that very moment on the other side of these waters there were black, brown, and white people, speaking many languages also walking o beaches. There were undoubtedly children building sand castles and old women body surfing just as those around me. Somewhere on the other side of these waters there were young lovers and old couples holding hands and lingering for a kiss just as those around me.
I think that is a wonder: that as different as our looks, clothes, and tongues, we are probably more alike than different, and we are connected by this massive and timeless body of water.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Heaven! If there is anything that will more instantly unwind me after several days of hard work than a walk on the beach, I certainly don't know what it is. This was a nearly perfect day for beach-walking: sunny, comfortably warm without being hot, and a slight breeze. As I hit the beach, a large tug boat with a cruise boat in tow pulled her far enough that she was able to carry her passengers on under her own power. Soon I spotted the tug returning without her precious cargo.
At one point, I stood and looked at the ocean on wonder. There was a timelessness about my gaze. Before me flashed all the other beaches I've walked on and other oceans, seas, and, as a girl, even the Great Lake Michigan. The children building sand castles, boogie boarders riding the small waves, and even the two white-haired women enjoying body surfing could have been on any of them.
What is it about any and all beaches that so mesmerizes me? There certainly is a magic of the ebbing and flowing of the tides, which so mysteriously, yet so predictably that there are tide tables, come and go twice a day. OK. I understand about the gravitational pull of the moon, but even how something on the moon changes the flow of the water on Mother Earth is a bit of a wonderment to me.
Yet as I continued my long walk, I thought what was the most wonderful and mysterious thing about beach-walking to me is that as I walked along the western edge of the Atlantic Ocean at that very moment on the other side of these waters there were black, brown, and white people, speaking many languages also walking o beaches. There were undoubtedly children building sand castles and old women body surfing just as those around me. Somewhere on the other side of these waters there were young lovers and old couples holding hands and lingering for a kiss just as those around me.
I think that is a wonder: that as different as our looks, clothes, and tongues, we are probably more alike than different, and we are connected by this massive and timeless body of water.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Keeping My Word When It's Not Easy
We are a month into Lent now, and since about the first week, my pledge to give up sugar, and by extension alcohol, has been pretty easy. There was one evening when I had a friend for dinner and a movie when I really would like to have joined in a glass of wine with dinner and some chocolate truffle cake afterwards, but once I was in the rhythm of coming home and fixing my unsweetened iced tea, I just haven't thought about it much.
That was until yesterday. Yesterday I spent a day in intense design work with several colleagues from my organization, assembled from all over the country. By the end if the day, we were brain-weary, hungry, and thirsty. After we dropped our computers and other work things at our hotel, we piled into two cars and headed down to the port for dinner and libation.
When we arrived, a pulsating band played old rock and roll to a spring break crowd. Most of our group headed directly to the bar while one went to get us on the waiting list for a table. More than any time since the start of Lent, I wanted to join my colleagues in a celebratory drink , recognizing our long day and hard work. Instead, I joined a smaller group in search of a restaurant that could accommodate our large party in less than two hours.
When we were all seated, another round was purchased. I was tempted, but ordered iced tea, along with two other teatotalers. But when the waitress delivered the drinks, my resolve once again wavered. I took a deep breath, and just as I was most tempted, I heard a "still small voice" within me say, "It's not supposed to be easy."
Of course, it's not supposed to be easy; if it was easy, I probably gave up the wrong thing. So I enjoyed my iced tea and the pleasure of being in integrity with my word.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
That was until yesterday. Yesterday I spent a day in intense design work with several colleagues from my organization, assembled from all over the country. By the end if the day, we were brain-weary, hungry, and thirsty. After we dropped our computers and other work things at our hotel, we piled into two cars and headed down to the port for dinner and libation.
When we arrived, a pulsating band played old rock and roll to a spring break crowd. Most of our group headed directly to the bar while one went to get us on the waiting list for a table. More than any time since the start of Lent, I wanted to join my colleagues in a celebratory drink , recognizing our long day and hard work. Instead, I joined a smaller group in search of a restaurant that could accommodate our large party in less than two hours.
When we were all seated, another round was purchased. I was tempted, but ordered iced tea, along with two other teatotalers. But when the waitress delivered the drinks, my resolve once again wavered. I took a deep breath, and just as I was most tempted, I heard a "still small voice" within me say, "It's not supposed to be easy."
Of course, it's not supposed to be easy; if it was easy, I probably gave up the wrong thing. So I enjoyed my iced tea and the pleasure of being in integrity with my word.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Beauty and Inspiration
I love dance, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I am a pretty consistent viewer of "Dancing with the Stars." Last night I joined almost everyone in their audience in weeping openly at the most amazing performance.*
The "star" was Amy Purdy. Amy won bronze in snowboard in the Sochi Paralympics. She is a double amputee. You read right. She lost both legs to bacterial meningitis at 19. Amy also lost kidney function to the bacterial meningitis, too, and required a kidney transplant.
And, yes, she did just win a medal in snowboard. (I can't imagine snowboarding with two healthy legs! EEK!) If that isn't enough of a head-scratcher. Think that she is now competing--pretty effectively--in a televised dance competition. And, if I do the math correctly, she is mid-30s...not ancient by any means, but for a snowboard medallist, pretty impressive.
Amy was ably supported, literally and figuratively, by consistent winning dance pro Derek Hough, as they performed a breathtakingly beautiful contemporary dance. There wasn't a dry eye in the ballroom...or probably millions of living rooms across the world. The routine was beautiful and moving, but what an inspiration she was.
For many people, just learning to walk on prosthetic legs as a young adult would be a challenge. Yet she has mastered movement so completely that she is a successful athletic competitor and now competitive dancer.
I have to admit that I sat there and said to myself, "Not one more word about not feeling like exercising because you're tired tonight!" I watched and realized that there is nothing I can't do...there is nothing any of us can't do...if we have the will, discipline, and perseverance.
Last week I was reminded of that by Ernestine "Ernie" Shepherd, a 77-year-old competitive body builder, who didn't begin working out until her mid-50s and didn't begin body building until she was 71!+ Now she gets up at 3 a.m. so that she can train for the marathons that she runs before she goes to her job at the gym teaching fitness classes. For real!
So whatever excuses we may have for not doing what we want to or should do. To take a phrase from Nike, "Just do it!" Have the intention and act on it...consistently. We just need to choose what we care about and pursue it with passion. But it is nice to have inspirations like Amy and Ernie to get us moving.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibOlQIojQv0
+https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wXFSczN6Rw
The "star" was Amy Purdy. Amy won bronze in snowboard in the Sochi Paralympics. She is a double amputee. You read right. She lost both legs to bacterial meningitis at 19. Amy also lost kidney function to the bacterial meningitis, too, and required a kidney transplant.
And, yes, she did just win a medal in snowboard. (I can't imagine snowboarding with two healthy legs! EEK!) If that isn't enough of a head-scratcher. Think that she is now competing--pretty effectively--in a televised dance competition. And, if I do the math correctly, she is mid-30s...not ancient by any means, but for a snowboard medallist, pretty impressive.
Amy was ably supported, literally and figuratively, by consistent winning dance pro Derek Hough, as they performed a breathtakingly beautiful contemporary dance. There wasn't a dry eye in the ballroom...or probably millions of living rooms across the world. The routine was beautiful and moving, but what an inspiration she was.
For many people, just learning to walk on prosthetic legs as a young adult would be a challenge. Yet she has mastered movement so completely that she is a successful athletic competitor and now competitive dancer.
I have to admit that I sat there and said to myself, "Not one more word about not feeling like exercising because you're tired tonight!" I watched and realized that there is nothing I can't do...there is nothing any of us can't do...if we have the will, discipline, and perseverance.
Last week I was reminded of that by Ernestine "Ernie" Shepherd, a 77-year-old competitive body builder, who didn't begin working out until her mid-50s and didn't begin body building until she was 71!+ Now she gets up at 3 a.m. so that she can train for the marathons that she runs before she goes to her job at the gym teaching fitness classes. For real!
So whatever excuses we may have for not doing what we want to or should do. To take a phrase from Nike, "Just do it!" Have the intention and act on it...consistently. We just need to choose what we care about and pursue it with passion. But it is nice to have inspirations like Amy and Ernie to get us moving.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibOlQIojQv0
+https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4wXFSczN6Rw
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