Readers: please note that this post should have been posted early. My challenges with technology resulted in it laying in drafts. I hope it will provide continuity to this current pilgrimage that may have been missing.
From sometime in 1995 or 1996 until June 1998, I frequently heard messages in my meditations that I should go to a country in which English was not a dominant language. I was to take no credit cards and very little cash. I was to take one carry-on bag and to follow where I was led. Mostly, I ignored.
Those were days when I was writing and generating more outflow than income. Even though I was to take little cash and no credit cards, I thought I couldn't afford such a venture.
In June of 1998 I worked a conference in Greece--very, very long hours. After four days, the conference moved from Athens to the Greek island of Rhodes late at night. I was fatigued and almost immediately fell asleep. Suddenly, I was awakened by a booming voice. It repeated the messages I'd been getting, but this time with more specificity. "You are to come back to Greece before summer's end...with little cash and no credit cards." More details followed.
Awakened from a deep sleep, I sat bolt up in my plane seat. Looking around at a sea of sleeping passengers, I was shocked that I appeared to be the only one awakened by the commanding voice.
Really?!
I got it. When I returned from my business trip, I immediately made air reservations to return for 30 days, the minimum time for which I'd been directed. I'd been given a number of other details, to which I rendered complete attention. The rest amounted to nothing less than a mystical adventure, much more of which will be detailed in my memoir. Suffice it to say, I've never been the same since that journey.
In early spring of this year, I was exhausted and began shopping for a trip. I am a bargain/adventure traveler, since 1998 most often traveling to a foreign airport and going wherever spirit leads. For weeks I shopped travel sites, looking for bargain air fares. In at least two months, the best fares kept coming up to Athens.
I wasn't sure that I was ready for what another Greek adventure promised. Finally, I relented. As soon as I booked, a plethora of other destinations presented, so I was certain I was supposed to be in Greece again.
Three months ago I picked up two travel guides to Greece, but was totally uninterested in them until three weeks ago. Somehow I knew it would be clear to me where to go.
On more than one occasion, I've heard the big booming directive; those are easy for me to follow. Harder are the subtler signs. I've written at length about how guidance comes to us, but over the last several days, I've thought I was receiving contradictory messages. I talked with a friend about which was true. I prayed about it yet no clarity came.
I've written that when several people give similar advice, it is probably more than human advice. Four people have urged specifically that I go to Crete and Santorini. Those two islands from more than 300 Greek islands. Yet that just didn't seem right.
Then three weeks ago I found a note from a friend, written in 1998, urging me to go to Galaxidhi at that time. I swear that I don't remember ever seeing the note before. Was finding it now "a sign?" I went to the referenced website, but it didn't seem quite right either.
For several years, I've thought of going to the Peloponnese. Galaxidhi was close, but not quite right. When I read about the Peloponnese in my guide books, two little towns jumped off the pages. One of my friends, who had urged Crete and Santorini, told me I didn't want to go there. I have just let decisions go, being certain that "where" would be clear to me when I needed to know.
Friday I traveled to Athens. I don't sleep in planes so Saturday evening I fell into bed at 8, some 37 hours without sleep. I had no idea what was next, but as I fell asleep, I set the intention that I would know in the morning.
I awakened slightly at 6 this morning, long enough to "rest" myself and fall back asleep, but with no clarity yet as to where I was to go. At 10:15, after the long sleep for which my body yearned, I sat right up in bed, and in an instant I knew where I was to go: the two towns in the Peloponnese that I'd felt were right in the beginning.
I jumped up and looked in the guidebook for commuting details. I quickly gathered my things, got directions to the bus terminal, and sped off, arriving at my bus just 8 minutes before it departed.
After just a few hours here, I know this is right. I do not know what else awaits me on this peninsula-turned-island, but I know enough that I can feel in my bones that what I knew in my heart from the beginning is right. I literally "fell" into a little hotel with a lovely garden this afternoon shortly after arriving. I think I will extend for another day, but that won't be clear until morning. I'm OK with that.
As I surrender my need to know once again, I find an incredible freedom and relaxation. Without itinerary or schedules to meet, there is nothing to stress me. I need only be in the present. Earlier this evening, I truly enjoyed a marvelous meal, followed by a walk along the Argolic Gulf, as the sun slipped into the horizon. I chuckled at swimmers below me over the cliffs and wondered at the cacti, which were about to bloom so near the water. Absolutely nothing distracting me from the moment.
My intention as this new cycle begins is to open my heart and find intimacy and love. I guess those things begin being here, wherever I am. For now, that is where I am.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Monday, September 29, 2014
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Sinking into All There Is
This is the time of the year when I take some time to sink into All There Is. I don't look at clocks; in fact, I usually turn them around or tape over the numbers. I listen to what my body wants. I sleep when I am tired, and I eat when I am hungry. I walk, sometimes for hours on end.
From the listening to my body comes listening to my soul, even listening to what the Universe wants to say to me. A few years ago in that time this blog was conceived; last year in that time the blog actually came to life. I never know what will come from this time.
I plan on cutting off my technology and with it this blog for about 10 days. Stay tuned. Interesting stories almost always unfold.
From the listening to my body comes listening to my soul, even listening to what the Universe wants to say to me. A few years ago in that time this blog was conceived; last year in that time the blog actually came to life. I never know what will come from this time.
I plan on cutting off my technology and with it this blog for about 10 days. Stay tuned. Interesting stories almost always unfold.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Open Heart Surgery
"You are faced with a situation that requires you to make the very changes you have been putting off. Decisions must be made...By refusing to deal with these issues, you are preventing new opportunities from entering your life." (DeLorey, Life Cycles, p. 198.) From the description of the spiritual lessons I have to learn in September, described in DeLorey's powerful book on numerology, I got a chill of the accuracy of the prediction for a month that is two-thirds finished.
Almost since the moment that September began, I have found myself facing one growth experience after another. First, there was the Laughter Yoga certification class I took as an admission that I really missed laughter. Today I heard on Radio Lab that laughter is a function of social engagement. When we are alone, it said, we don't laugh. Well, duh! That is why I took the class which teaches fake laughter as an anecdote to the absence of real laughter. (It has the same positive health benefits.) The truth is that lack of laughter is just one sign of what I miss from spending too much time alone.
After that, just four days into the month, came the influence assessment, which indicated that I don't advocate for myself. That, too, should have been a no-brainer. Why else would I be working 1l- and 12-hour days? But it also hit me over the head with my boundary issues. ("Boundary Issues," 9/4)
Then, I got into the personal growth/leadership where I had the Aha! moment that, by being so nose-down, doing my work that people described me as insensitive and uncaring. That was like a knife into my heart. Open-heart surgery, I am calling it.
This week, I went for my annual physical to assure that I can use the gym at work. Of course, I've probably only used it three or four times this year and only once since June. The doctor reminds me that I've picked up five pounds (there could be a relationship) and tells me that my blood pressure has jumped 30 points. (Fortunately, it has always been very low, so I am still well within optimal range, but still disturbing. I had it checked again at the end of the week, and it was back to close to my normal.)
The next day I followed up with one person who participated in my 360 assessment. She related my change in behaviors to a specific incident in which I'd felt very threatened last year. After a couple of decades of feeling like I had put my childhood coping mechanisms behind, without knowing what she was doing, this woman had told me that I was behaving like I was three again. Oh, great!
I also taught a segment of a class on Emotional Intelligence, which reminded me that all of this self-awareness was meaningless unless I choose to change something.
The trend here is to slow down, work less, get a life, and connect more. It is bigger than that though. It was at age three that I chose to close my heart and chose high-quality work as my survival mechanism. In the realm of "How's that workin' for you?" the answer is: it isn't.
For 21 years I've been mostly alone, as attested to by the lack-of-laughter issue. I've said I want someone special in my life, but I own that a dozen years ago I figured out that I've attracted men into my life who couldn't open their hearts because I couldn't open mine. Closed hearts avoiding each other was my comfort zone. I pledged at that point that I really wanted the next man in my life to be one who could love whole-heartedly. That, of course, begs the question, "Why would someone who could love whole-heartedly want to be in relationship with someone whose heart is locked closed, and the lock is so rusted that even if I could find the key, it just might not work any longer.
So when I read the DeLorey quote above this afternoon, describing my spiritual growth assignment for this month, I knew in an instant that the issue that I must deal with is opening my heart. Nothing short of emotional open-heart surgery is what I am willing to do. I have no clue what that will look like. I plan to take a few days at the end of this month as I generally do around Rosh Hashanah to reflect, but I also know that this is not something I can totally resolve from the quiet and solitude of meditation.
Emotional open-heart surgery happens in relationships. I've already started slowing down at work and taking time to connect, even if just for a minute or two. Voila! It really feels good. In the schema of the spiritual work that DeLorey writes about, this time of year sets the tone for the year ahead. By expressing my intention to open my heart in September, I pray that the year ahead will be one of love and connection.
Almost since the moment that September began, I have found myself facing one growth experience after another. First, there was the Laughter Yoga certification class I took as an admission that I really missed laughter. Today I heard on Radio Lab that laughter is a function of social engagement. When we are alone, it said, we don't laugh. Well, duh! That is why I took the class which teaches fake laughter as an anecdote to the absence of real laughter. (It has the same positive health benefits.) The truth is that lack of laughter is just one sign of what I miss from spending too much time alone.
After that, just four days into the month, came the influence assessment, which indicated that I don't advocate for myself. That, too, should have been a no-brainer. Why else would I be working 1l- and 12-hour days? But it also hit me over the head with my boundary issues. ("Boundary Issues," 9/4)
Then, I got into the personal growth/leadership where I had the Aha! moment that, by being so nose-down, doing my work that people described me as insensitive and uncaring. That was like a knife into my heart. Open-heart surgery, I am calling it.
This week, I went for my annual physical to assure that I can use the gym at work. Of course, I've probably only used it three or four times this year and only once since June. The doctor reminds me that I've picked up five pounds (there could be a relationship) and tells me that my blood pressure has jumped 30 points. (Fortunately, it has always been very low, so I am still well within optimal range, but still disturbing. I had it checked again at the end of the week, and it was back to close to my normal.)
The next day I followed up with one person who participated in my 360 assessment. She related my change in behaviors to a specific incident in which I'd felt very threatened last year. After a couple of decades of feeling like I had put my childhood coping mechanisms behind, without knowing what she was doing, this woman had told me that I was behaving like I was three again. Oh, great!
I also taught a segment of a class on Emotional Intelligence, which reminded me that all of this self-awareness was meaningless unless I choose to change something.
The trend here is to slow down, work less, get a life, and connect more. It is bigger than that though. It was at age three that I chose to close my heart and chose high-quality work as my survival mechanism. In the realm of "How's that workin' for you?" the answer is: it isn't.
For 21 years I've been mostly alone, as attested to by the lack-of-laughter issue. I've said I want someone special in my life, but I own that a dozen years ago I figured out that I've attracted men into my life who couldn't open their hearts because I couldn't open mine. Closed hearts avoiding each other was my comfort zone. I pledged at that point that I really wanted the next man in my life to be one who could love whole-heartedly. That, of course, begs the question, "Why would someone who could love whole-heartedly want to be in relationship with someone whose heart is locked closed, and the lock is so rusted that even if I could find the key, it just might not work any longer.
So when I read the DeLorey quote above this afternoon, describing my spiritual growth assignment for this month, I knew in an instant that the issue that I must deal with is opening my heart. Nothing short of emotional open-heart surgery is what I am willing to do. I have no clue what that will look like. I plan to take a few days at the end of this month as I generally do around Rosh Hashanah to reflect, but I also know that this is not something I can totally resolve from the quiet and solitude of meditation.
Emotional open-heart surgery happens in relationships. I've already started slowing down at work and taking time to connect, even if just for a minute or two. Voila! It really feels good. In the schema of the spiritual work that DeLorey writes about, this time of year sets the tone for the year ahead. By expressing my intention to open my heart in September, I pray that the year ahead will be one of love and connection.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Affirmation of Intention
I am always amazed at what happens when I get really clear about my intentions. The Universe responds.
On the first of September, when I pledged to bring more balance into my life, I knew that I already had work commitments which will force my hours to continue to be long through mid-November. Yet I knew that I had to take better care of myself to survive. Opportunities just began falling onto my path.
I went to look for something related on Google and found a Laughter Yoga certification course being offered just a few blocks from my home Sunday before last. I signed up. I went and laughed for most of a day. It ends up that serious belly laughing not only feels good, but it is aerobic (who knew?) and good for the immune system. Since it had been a lovely day, I walked the 20 or so blocks to the class and home again. What a great start in adding balance.
You will also recall that I committed to starting the day with a "babbling brook" meditation (8/25), and the most amazing thing happened. But before that, a little background.
I am a natural night owl. My juices start flowing about 4 pm, and by 10:00 or 10:30, I am ready to rock and roll. My best time on my career was when I could work all night, either writing or working with clients in Asia into the wee hours. I would knock it off about 4:30 in the morning, go to the 24-hour gym to workout, and be ready to go to bed at 6 am. (Oh, how I lust for those days.)
So it should come as no surprise that my current schedule, which has pretty much been my workday schedule for a dozen years, of getting up between 4:30 and 5:30 a.m. really does not either optimize my natural cycle or personally delight me. I set two alarm blocks, one in a different room to make sure I get up.
Now back to the babbling brook. As soon as I stated that commitment, I started waking up on my own 20 minutes early several days a week, and at least 10 on the others. On Friday, I start an hour later so I get to sleep in until 6:20, and it happened today as well. At 6:00 a.m., I was wide awake. I really feel the whole invisible world must be cheering my commitment so loudly that it awakens me. Even more astounding, I haven't felt tired. Not the least bit sleepy, just raring to go.
As I've written, I moved from the waiting list where I'd been sitting for weeks and got into a personal growth workshop last week, which was really good for my soul.
A coach that I've been mentoring invited me to lunch yesterday, assuring that I not only got lunch, but also had a break, and social interaction. Yeah! A colleague from the class I took last week stopped by to visit for 30 minutes and talk about the experience, giving me more social interaction.
The weather shifted about the same time as my commitment, making it most pleasant to walk 30 minutes to the Chinatown Metro stop instead of the one that is five minutes away, assuring that I get my 30 minutes of aerobic activity in almost every day.
Finally, I have gotten back to my Thursday night Argentine tango class, which feeds my right brain (praise The Lord!) my body, and my spirit.
I believe that by firmly drawing a line in the sand about bringing balance back into my life, I unleashed forces beyond me to affirm my intention. This has happened before. When I get truly clear, I have lots of help. All I have to do is re-member how much help I have out there.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
On the first of September, when I pledged to bring more balance into my life, I knew that I already had work commitments which will force my hours to continue to be long through mid-November. Yet I knew that I had to take better care of myself to survive. Opportunities just began falling onto my path.
I went to look for something related on Google and found a Laughter Yoga certification course being offered just a few blocks from my home Sunday before last. I signed up. I went and laughed for most of a day. It ends up that serious belly laughing not only feels good, but it is aerobic (who knew?) and good for the immune system. Since it had been a lovely day, I walked the 20 or so blocks to the class and home again. What a great start in adding balance.
You will also recall that I committed to starting the day with a "babbling brook" meditation (8/25), and the most amazing thing happened. But before that, a little background.
I am a natural night owl. My juices start flowing about 4 pm, and by 10:00 or 10:30, I am ready to rock and roll. My best time on my career was when I could work all night, either writing or working with clients in Asia into the wee hours. I would knock it off about 4:30 in the morning, go to the 24-hour gym to workout, and be ready to go to bed at 6 am. (Oh, how I lust for those days.)
So it should come as no surprise that my current schedule, which has pretty much been my workday schedule for a dozen years, of getting up between 4:30 and 5:30 a.m. really does not either optimize my natural cycle or personally delight me. I set two alarm blocks, one in a different room to make sure I get up.
Now back to the babbling brook. As soon as I stated that commitment, I started waking up on my own 20 minutes early several days a week, and at least 10 on the others. On Friday, I start an hour later so I get to sleep in until 6:20, and it happened today as well. At 6:00 a.m., I was wide awake. I really feel the whole invisible world must be cheering my commitment so loudly that it awakens me. Even more astounding, I haven't felt tired. Not the least bit sleepy, just raring to go.
As I've written, I moved from the waiting list where I'd been sitting for weeks and got into a personal growth workshop last week, which was really good for my soul.
A coach that I've been mentoring invited me to lunch yesterday, assuring that I not only got lunch, but also had a break, and social interaction. Yeah! A colleague from the class I took last week stopped by to visit for 30 minutes and talk about the experience, giving me more social interaction.
The weather shifted about the same time as my commitment, making it most pleasant to walk 30 minutes to the Chinatown Metro stop instead of the one that is five minutes away, assuring that I get my 30 minutes of aerobic activity in almost every day.
Finally, I have gotten back to my Thursday night Argentine tango class, which feeds my right brain (praise The Lord!) my body, and my spirit.
I believe that by firmly drawing a line in the sand about bringing balance back into my life, I unleashed forces beyond me to affirm my intention. This has happened before. When I get truly clear, I have lots of help. All I have to do is re-member how much help I have out there.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Little Influence Early May Make Long-Term Impact
I'm guessing it was 25 years or so ago that I went to visit my college roommate, her husband, and her young son. I really don't remember what age he was, but little. I wanted to bring something to him, but I really knew nothing of little boys. At the time, I lived in Eugene, Oregon, so I went to the University of Oregon bookstore, and I bought him a University of Oregon pennant. End of story or so I thought.
Fast forward how ever many years it has been, and I learned two or three years ago that the little boy, now an accomplished man in his mid-20s, has been smitten with Oregon sports teams ever since. While I was working at my computer this afternoon, I got a text from his mom. The family has finally sojourned to the Mecca for Oregon Duck fans: Autzen stadium. My friend sent a picture of her son in front of the stadium where they were attending a football game.
I slumped back into my chair and had a flash. How could I have ever known that such a little thing as a souvenir pennant would grab a young man's attention for decades? A humbling thought.
That really set me thinking. I didn't even remember giving him the pennant until his mom and dad reminded me. (I do remember that the toddler and I had quite a love affair during that visit. How very sweet to recall.) I wonder what else I have given children in my life that I have forgotten about, which has impacted their lives. I am not thinking about "stuff," like pennants or other gifts. My concern is of acts of kindness or unkindness, thoughtfulness or sleight.
We really never know when we do something for or to a child what long-term impact the act will have. As part of my personal growth session this week, one of the things we did was to create a "conflict history." Some of the things in our lives were not huge in the normal scheme of things, but because of timing or impact, they have colored how we faced the events of our lives since then.
I wonder about the two little miracles that are in my life right now. ("Anticipation," 8/8 and "Through the Eyes of a Three-Year-Old, 8/9) How very mindful I will be in the future of what I do or say and how it may color their young lives. I want them to remember our times together as planting seeds of love and excitement for when they are older, like happened today. I don't ever want to end up on someone's "conflict history" 30 years from now. The only way I can avoid that is by being very conscious and intentional about every moment we have together.
Perhaps there is nothing that we do that more influences the world we leave behind than how we love and treat the children around us. That is how we make miracles happen. That is how we change the world.
Fast forward how ever many years it has been, and I learned two or three years ago that the little boy, now an accomplished man in his mid-20s, has been smitten with Oregon sports teams ever since. While I was working at my computer this afternoon, I got a text from his mom. The family has finally sojourned to the Mecca for Oregon Duck fans: Autzen stadium. My friend sent a picture of her son in front of the stadium where they were attending a football game.
I slumped back into my chair and had a flash. How could I have ever known that such a little thing as a souvenir pennant would grab a young man's attention for decades? A humbling thought.
That really set me thinking. I didn't even remember giving him the pennant until his mom and dad reminded me. (I do remember that the toddler and I had quite a love affair during that visit. How very sweet to recall.) I wonder what else I have given children in my life that I have forgotten about, which has impacted their lives. I am not thinking about "stuff," like pennants or other gifts. My concern is of acts of kindness or unkindness, thoughtfulness or sleight.
We really never know when we do something for or to a child what long-term impact the act will have. As part of my personal growth session this week, one of the things we did was to create a "conflict history." Some of the things in our lives were not huge in the normal scheme of things, but because of timing or impact, they have colored how we faced the events of our lives since then.
I wonder about the two little miracles that are in my life right now. ("Anticipation," 8/8 and "Through the Eyes of a Three-Year-Old, 8/9) How very mindful I will be in the future of what I do or say and how it may color their young lives. I want them to remember our times together as planting seeds of love and excitement for when they are older, like happened today. I don't ever want to end up on someone's "conflict history" 30 years from now. The only way I can avoid that is by being very conscious and intentional about every moment we have together.
Perhaps there is nothing that we do that more influences the world we leave behind than how we love and treat the children around us. That is how we make miracles happen. That is how we change the world.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Discovering the Truth About Ourselves
"Discovering the Truth about Ourselves" was jotted on a pad beside my computer. I use it to capture ideas I have while in the bath or cooking or in the middle of the night when I don't really have time to blog, but I don't really want to lose the thought. Most of the time when I sit to write the ideas just flow. Today, I sat and looked at this one for a while. I actually have some current thoughts about the topic, but for the life of me, I just can't remember what my original intention had been. Maybe it will come.
I've been in a personal growth training this week. Yesterday was very slow. Today we got the results of two different assessments. One of them was a 360. If you aren't familiar with a 360, feedback is solicited from people all around me: my boss, my peers, a customer, and a coach that I have mentored. The customer didn't get his input submitted in time for the report I received today, but the others did.
People, who I have coached, that have had a 360 assessment often discover they've had blind spots. Feedback is often painful, so I thought I had steeled myself for the worst. I was wrong. Some of the items didn't surprise me. I don't take time to socialize because I work 11- and 12-hour days and almost never even have time for lunch. I totally own that I make the decision that it is more important for me to leave after 12 hours than to chat and leave after 12 and a half.
I also got feedback that I don't mentor. Same reasons apply, plus my field requires a graduate degree so it is not very practical to mentor someone without a bachelor's degree to do organizational development. I had mentored the afore-mentioned coach for 10 hours and spent several more hours listening to his recorded sessions, but I don't talk about it. Except for the person I coached, probably none of the others knew. I am not sure what to do about that, but I can't see that I am going to publish (except anonymously in this post) that I am mentoring someone. That is between me and the person with whom I am working.
What was really painful though was feedback that I received that I don't care about people. I am not sure what kind of armor I've been stepping into lately that people have been seeing, but I bleed when people are hurting. I lose sleep over a sleight.
Actually, that's not quite true. I have given this reflection over the last few hours. I do know what kind of armor I've been stepping into: it is the armor that gets me through those long days. I just put my nose down and stay focused. No one looking at me would know that my heart is aching at the end of a day of listening to people in pain from their workplace. That is what I carry home with me. It is the truth about me, and discovering it wasn't fun. Yet, as I said a few days ago ("Growth Spurt," 9/6,) I am ready to grow. I can't do anything about this perception if I don't know about it.
The executive, who launched our program Monday morning, said something that really stuck a chord with me and has given me an important lesson. She said that just before her first child was born, she worked late. She put together packages of urgent projects with post-it notes containing instructions. When she returned five months later, two of the urgent projects were just where she left them. She said that she learned right then that no matter how important a project seemed to be, most of the time, it can wait.
A few days ago I wrote that on the first of September I was no longer going to work the killer hours.("Boundary Issues," 9/4) The executive's words simply reinforced that decision. The 360 feedback reinforced it even more. It is time for me to take time to let the people around me know the person inside the armor and not the one they've been seeing and experiencing over the last year.
Even though the feedback was painful, it has served as a painful reminder that if I forget who I am, no one else has a chance to see me.
I've been in a personal growth training this week. Yesterday was very slow. Today we got the results of two different assessments. One of them was a 360. If you aren't familiar with a 360, feedback is solicited from people all around me: my boss, my peers, a customer, and a coach that I have mentored. The customer didn't get his input submitted in time for the report I received today, but the others did.
People, who I have coached, that have had a 360 assessment often discover they've had blind spots. Feedback is often painful, so I thought I had steeled myself for the worst. I was wrong. Some of the items didn't surprise me. I don't take time to socialize because I work 11- and 12-hour days and almost never even have time for lunch. I totally own that I make the decision that it is more important for me to leave after 12 hours than to chat and leave after 12 and a half.
I also got feedback that I don't mentor. Same reasons apply, plus my field requires a graduate degree so it is not very practical to mentor someone without a bachelor's degree to do organizational development. I had mentored the afore-mentioned coach for 10 hours and spent several more hours listening to his recorded sessions, but I don't talk about it. Except for the person I coached, probably none of the others knew. I am not sure what to do about that, but I can't see that I am going to publish (except anonymously in this post) that I am mentoring someone. That is between me and the person with whom I am working.
What was really painful though was feedback that I received that I don't care about people. I am not sure what kind of armor I've been stepping into lately that people have been seeing, but I bleed when people are hurting. I lose sleep over a sleight.
Actually, that's not quite true. I have given this reflection over the last few hours. I do know what kind of armor I've been stepping into: it is the armor that gets me through those long days. I just put my nose down and stay focused. No one looking at me would know that my heart is aching at the end of a day of listening to people in pain from their workplace. That is what I carry home with me. It is the truth about me, and discovering it wasn't fun. Yet, as I said a few days ago ("Growth Spurt," 9/6,) I am ready to grow. I can't do anything about this perception if I don't know about it.
The executive, who launched our program Monday morning, said something that really stuck a chord with me and has given me an important lesson. She said that just before her first child was born, she worked late. She put together packages of urgent projects with post-it notes containing instructions. When she returned five months later, two of the urgent projects were just where she left them. She said that she learned right then that no matter how important a project seemed to be, most of the time, it can wait.
A few days ago I wrote that on the first of September I was no longer going to work the killer hours.("Boundary Issues," 9/4) The executive's words simply reinforced that decision. The 360 feedback reinforced it even more. It is time for me to take time to let the people around me know the person inside the armor and not the one they've been seeing and experiencing over the last year.
Even though the feedback was painful, it has served as a painful reminder that if I forget who I am, no one else has a chance to see me.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
My Prayers Praying Me
When I was growing up, I was taught that prayer was about talking to God: impassioned pleas, begging, bartering, asking for guidance from God by only offering two options, or the metaphorical equivalent of parting the waters for us to get the date we wanted for prom. Clearly, it was about asking God to help us get what we wanted. I once heard something (Marianne Williamson?) refer to this kind of prayer as "the carhop in the sky." We tell God what we want, and he/she is supposed to bring it to us.
I have come to believe a few different things about prayer. First, it is at least as much about listening as talking...maybe much more. Second, when we ask for guidance, we should do so with open-ended questions so that we really give God room to point us in the right direction, and when we ask for help, we should listen very carefully. The answers often float in as if on the wings of a butterfly and always without explanation. Reasoning with Go about why is pure foolishness. The answer is the answer.
Third, everything is a gift; no matter how much we don't like or understand the answers when they show up in our lives, if we are open-minded, we will eventually see that they are a gift.
Finally, God will tell us what to pray, if we will still our minds and listen.
All of these weave together to produce a very different kind of prayer than what I grew up with. When I started to pray this way, the term that came to me for it was "my prayers praying me." How this works is that I allow myself to become very still. Then I express the intention to prayer. Since everything is a gift, I begin by expressing gratitude, but not for stuff in my life. When I say that God will tell us what to pray, I mean that things will become apparent for which I should thank God.
I don't know if it works exactly the same way for everyone. Most of the time, I hear what to be grateful for, but occasionally I may see a picture which reminds me of something to be grateful for. In a recent prayer, I started noticing the buzz of the cicadas in the park behind me. That reminded me to thank God for having an apartment in a large city that overlooked a national park. It also reminded me of my home, having a home, and being able to afford my home, all things that I've learned to not take for granted. I was grateful that I had friends who opened their doors for me and that I was never on the streets during my season of homelessness. Then I remembered how wonderful it was to have a trailhead into the park just feet outside my backdoor.
After I'd taken time to be very grateful for my apartment and a number of other positives in my life, I started to thank God for things for which others may not take time to express gratitude. I thanked God for my pain because there was a time when I might have become a quadriplegic and couldn't have felt pain. Then I was grateful that I could wiggle my fingers and toes.
I thanked God for my difficult bosses because I was grateful to have bosses and all the things that went with them--a regular paycheck, benefits, and even paid time off. I even thanked God for my less-than-wonderful eyesight because before my February surgery, I understood I might lose the sight in one eye. You get the idea.
I wasn't running a stop watch, but my guess is that I was grateful for at least 20 minutes. Most of what I was thankful for weren't things that normally would have been on my Top 10 of gratitude. Instead, they were really very meaningful things for me to remember. When I am thankful for pain, bad eyesight, and even not being on the streets, when I get curve balls in my life, they remind me to look for the gift.
Then, it was time to ask. Once again, I asked: what should I pray for? There it was, just like in the wings of a butterfly, "Heal me." There was a knowing acknowledgement in my throat as my head involuntarily shook to the affirmative. "Heal me," I said.
Then, there was stillness again. No drama. No begging. No choices. Just "heal me." The roots of the word "heal" are "to make whole." Gratitude, and a request to be made whole. When my prayers pray me, they are simple and distilled. What more could I ask for?
I have come to believe a few different things about prayer. First, it is at least as much about listening as talking...maybe much more. Second, when we ask for guidance, we should do so with open-ended questions so that we really give God room to point us in the right direction, and when we ask for help, we should listen very carefully. The answers often float in as if on the wings of a butterfly and always without explanation. Reasoning with Go about why is pure foolishness. The answer is the answer.
Third, everything is a gift; no matter how much we don't like or understand the answers when they show up in our lives, if we are open-minded, we will eventually see that they are a gift.
Finally, God will tell us what to pray, if we will still our minds and listen.
All of these weave together to produce a very different kind of prayer than what I grew up with. When I started to pray this way, the term that came to me for it was "my prayers praying me." How this works is that I allow myself to become very still. Then I express the intention to prayer. Since everything is a gift, I begin by expressing gratitude, but not for stuff in my life. When I say that God will tell us what to pray, I mean that things will become apparent for which I should thank God.
I don't know if it works exactly the same way for everyone. Most of the time, I hear what to be grateful for, but occasionally I may see a picture which reminds me of something to be grateful for. In a recent prayer, I started noticing the buzz of the cicadas in the park behind me. That reminded me to thank God for having an apartment in a large city that overlooked a national park. It also reminded me of my home, having a home, and being able to afford my home, all things that I've learned to not take for granted. I was grateful that I had friends who opened their doors for me and that I was never on the streets during my season of homelessness. Then I remembered how wonderful it was to have a trailhead into the park just feet outside my backdoor.
After I'd taken time to be very grateful for my apartment and a number of other positives in my life, I started to thank God for things for which others may not take time to express gratitude. I thanked God for my pain because there was a time when I might have become a quadriplegic and couldn't have felt pain. Then I was grateful that I could wiggle my fingers and toes.
I thanked God for my difficult bosses because I was grateful to have bosses and all the things that went with them--a regular paycheck, benefits, and even paid time off. I even thanked God for my less-than-wonderful eyesight because before my February surgery, I understood I might lose the sight in one eye. You get the idea.
I wasn't running a stop watch, but my guess is that I was grateful for at least 20 minutes. Most of what I was thankful for weren't things that normally would have been on my Top 10 of gratitude. Instead, they were really very meaningful things for me to remember. When I am thankful for pain, bad eyesight, and even not being on the streets, when I get curve balls in my life, they remind me to look for the gift.
Then, it was time to ask. Once again, I asked: what should I pray for? There it was, just like in the wings of a butterfly, "Heal me." There was a knowing acknowledgement in my throat as my head involuntarily shook to the affirmative. "Heal me," I said.
Then, there was stillness again. No drama. No begging. No choices. Just "heal me." The roots of the word "heal" are "to make whole." Gratitude, and a request to be made whole. When my prayers pray me, they are simple and distilled. What more could I ask for?
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Growth Spurt
They tell me that many kids go through growth spurts and shoot up a few inches in just two or three months. Actually, I remember seeing that in one of my nephews over a summer. Me? I was the tallest kid in my class until fifth grade; then I stopped growing...completely. At least physically, that it. In adulthood, I am the size of a tall fifth grade, which is to say a pretty short grown up.
We grow in different ways, though, and in some ways I've never stopped growing. I like to believe that emotionally and spiritually I continue to grow. There have been years when it felt like I'd have a major Aha! moment at least every week. I've been in a growth dry spell for a while. You might say I've been stuck.
For several months, I've been feeling like something was coming. On November 2 last year, I wrote about "feeling pregnant," about to give birth to something. I've kept feeling that something positive was about to come my way over the months. Waiting...waiting...but nothing yet.
Over the last two weeks I've started into a growth spurt. (I'd love to be taller, but I think I will have to be happy with spiritual growth.) As I've stepped out in new ways, the Universe has been very affirming. I got into the class I'd been on a waiting list for, and it ends up that it is going to approach leadership from the perspective of personal growth, something I wrote about in Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear.
As I've done pre-work assessments, I've realized how I've shrunk personally over the five years I've been in my current job; I've significantly lost confidence in myself. Dumbing down on a daily basis has really undermined not only my potential, but also how I show up each day. As I've written over the last few days, discovering that I don't advocate for myself and that I have boundary issues has been a major breakthrough as well. A continuing education class for certified coaches also helped me rediscover aspects that I'd forgotten were part of me.
I've climbed out of the rut, and I am back in the growth groove. YEAH!!!!!!!!!
Tomorrow I am taking an all-day class that I also expect to be revealing, and then the next five days, I'll be in the personal growth class. I am not only in a new groove, but odds are on that I am about to go from zero to sixty very quickly.
I love to grow. I love to discover new things about myself. For a long time, I've thought that our personal growth follows the cycle of nature. In the fall seeds of who we might become drop, rest in the soil, and in spring they sprout. By this time of the year, it is harvest, and we are ready to drop seeds for another cycle of growth.
I usually recognize the beginning of the cycle around the Jewish New Year, which is coming in about three weeks. Although I am not Jewish, over those holidays I usually take a few days to sit and reflect about the year past, what seeds have sprouted and matured, and what seeds I want to plant for the year ahead.
It was at that time last year, that I committed to writing more, and I have written regularly in this blog since that time. I have also written several chapters of my memoir, and I am very, very close (I hope) to having The Game Called Life on Amazon. There were other things that I wanted to bring into my life--more of the work I used to love doing, including coaching, and a new job with better pay and more importantly, a more respectful work environment. Some of those things have happened, and seeds have been planted for others. I'd also knew I wanted a personal relationship.
The truth about some of those things which haven't happened yet is that I haven't been ready. In synch with the cycle of nature, I believe this growth spurt is what I've needed to get me ready. There's an expression: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." As nature has approached the harvest, this student has gotten more and more ready, and suddenly teachers have appeared from every direction.
The nature of spiritual growth spurts is that we can't really know from this side what things will look like on the other, but what we can be assured is that a whole new world of possibilities will await us.
What it will look like, I cannot know now, but I am confident that a rich harvest awaits everywhere in my life that I've planted seeds.
We grow in different ways, though, and in some ways I've never stopped growing. I like to believe that emotionally and spiritually I continue to grow. There have been years when it felt like I'd have a major Aha! moment at least every week. I've been in a growth dry spell for a while. You might say I've been stuck.
For several months, I've been feeling like something was coming. On November 2 last year, I wrote about "feeling pregnant," about to give birth to something. I've kept feeling that something positive was about to come my way over the months. Waiting...waiting...but nothing yet.
Over the last two weeks I've started into a growth spurt. (I'd love to be taller, but I think I will have to be happy with spiritual growth.) As I've stepped out in new ways, the Universe has been very affirming. I got into the class I'd been on a waiting list for, and it ends up that it is going to approach leadership from the perspective of personal growth, something I wrote about in Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear.
As I've done pre-work assessments, I've realized how I've shrunk personally over the five years I've been in my current job; I've significantly lost confidence in myself. Dumbing down on a daily basis has really undermined not only my potential, but also how I show up each day. As I've written over the last few days, discovering that I don't advocate for myself and that I have boundary issues has been a major breakthrough as well. A continuing education class for certified coaches also helped me rediscover aspects that I'd forgotten were part of me.
I've climbed out of the rut, and I am back in the growth groove. YEAH!!!!!!!!!
Tomorrow I am taking an all-day class that I also expect to be revealing, and then the next five days, I'll be in the personal growth class. I am not only in a new groove, but odds are on that I am about to go from zero to sixty very quickly.
I love to grow. I love to discover new things about myself. For a long time, I've thought that our personal growth follows the cycle of nature. In the fall seeds of who we might become drop, rest in the soil, and in spring they sprout. By this time of the year, it is harvest, and we are ready to drop seeds for another cycle of growth.
I usually recognize the beginning of the cycle around the Jewish New Year, which is coming in about three weeks. Although I am not Jewish, over those holidays I usually take a few days to sit and reflect about the year past, what seeds have sprouted and matured, and what seeds I want to plant for the year ahead.
It was at that time last year, that I committed to writing more, and I have written regularly in this blog since that time. I have also written several chapters of my memoir, and I am very, very close (I hope) to having The Game Called Life on Amazon. There were other things that I wanted to bring into my life--more of the work I used to love doing, including coaching, and a new job with better pay and more importantly, a more respectful work environment. Some of those things have happened, and seeds have been planted for others. I'd also knew I wanted a personal relationship.
The truth about some of those things which haven't happened yet is that I haven't been ready. In synch with the cycle of nature, I believe this growth spurt is what I've needed to get me ready. There's an expression: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." As nature has approached the harvest, this student has gotten more and more ready, and suddenly teachers have appeared from every direction.
The nature of spiritual growth spurts is that we can't really know from this side what things will look like on the other, but what we can be assured is that a whole new world of possibilities will await us.
What it will look like, I cannot know now, but I am confident that a rich harvest awaits everywhere in my life that I've planted seeds.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Celebrating Presence
In the middle of the chaos that is my work life, I just stopped the other day. I have no idea what made me do it, unless, of course, reducing my hours significantly allowed me to actually be conscious in my life. Actually, that is what stopped me. I suddenly realized that in the chaos, my mind couldn't drift anywhere. I had to be totally present.
As I thought about it, I smiled and a sense of peace washed over me. I have struggled to be present, and I have to admit that my mind does buzz more than a bit when I am not in the chaos. But, what a miracle to notice that the chaos actually forced me to be present.
I move through the day going from client meeting to client meeting and coaching sessions with a little instructional design and functionary work sandwiched in. I could not do my job if I couldn't totally let every little thing that was going on in my work just fall away so I could lend my total attention to the person/people in front of me in that moment.
While it seems a little thing, for me the realization was huge. I believe I've quoted spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss before, but please allow me to repeat. Myss has said our biggest spiritual challenge is to be present. At the end of many days, they just feel like a blur, but I now know that, moment by moment, I was actually almost totally present.
What is odd about this is that I've been thinking the chaos was what was keeping me from being present, and now I discover it is just the opposite: in order to do what I need to do, I must transcend everything else and focus on what is before me.
I feel like skipping, doing a happy dance, and screaming to the world, "I just discovered I can be present."
Now the question that I am sitting with is: "Was this the purpose for this chaos?" Did I need this craziness to learn how to let everything but what I am doing in that moment just drop away? And, now that I know how to do it, can I do it without the chaos? Those questions linger, but for now, I am celebrating this remarkable discovery.
As I thought about it, I smiled and a sense of peace washed over me. I have struggled to be present, and I have to admit that my mind does buzz more than a bit when I am not in the chaos. But, what a miracle to notice that the chaos actually forced me to be present.
I move through the day going from client meeting to client meeting and coaching sessions with a little instructional design and functionary work sandwiched in. I could not do my job if I couldn't totally let every little thing that was going on in my work just fall away so I could lend my total attention to the person/people in front of me in that moment.
While it seems a little thing, for me the realization was huge. I believe I've quoted spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss before, but please allow me to repeat. Myss has said our biggest spiritual challenge is to be present. At the end of many days, they just feel like a blur, but I now know that, moment by moment, I was actually almost totally present.
What is odd about this is that I've been thinking the chaos was what was keeping me from being present, and now I discover it is just the opposite: in order to do what I need to do, I must transcend everything else and focus on what is before me.
I feel like skipping, doing a happy dance, and screaming to the world, "I just discovered I can be present."
Now the question that I am sitting with is: "Was this the purpose for this chaos?" Did I need this craziness to learn how to let everything but what I am doing in that moment just drop away? And, now that I know how to do it, can I do it without the chaos? Those questions linger, but for now, I am celebrating this remarkable discovery.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Boundary issues
In the realm of "Duhhh! Why did it take you so long to notice?" I have figured out I have boundary issues.
Wednesday a colleague briefed me on a personal assessment which indicated that I don't advocate for myself. That's a concept! Advocate for myself. It was totally right. I don't. I have to say that I was dumbstruck by the revelation though. Not that I would have argued that I do advocate for myself. It's just that advocating for myself has just never been on my radar.
As those of you who have been regular readers know, I've been working way too many hours all year, and I had drawn a line in the sand to stop in September. It was just "coincidence*" that the assessment was briefed for me on the morning of our second work day in September. As several hours passed, I became more and more aware of how many of the little irritants at work had been pushed on me simply because I let them be. Push back is just not something I've ever done. Now I get it.
Today was the third day in a row that I've only worked 9 to 9.5 hours. I am beginning to feel again. I took two dance classes tonight and actually have the physical energy and mental focus to fully participate. I had a lot of fun. I want more of this in my life.
At about 4 p.m. today, a schedule for a major project which will last most of the rest of the year was dumped on me. I was already at about 110% capacity through the second week of November. Tomorrow, I will push back. Technically, I've been breaking the law by working so many hours anyway, so I really can't see that there will be any negative consequences. If there are, can they really be any worse than a year of 12-hour days?
I finally got it: I have boundary issues. Self-awareness is really huge for me. Once I get something, I generally act decidedly on my intention to change. I know things are going to get a lot better now.
*In spirit speak, a coincidence is a coinciding event--two things that appear to be unrelated except by divine intervention--occur. I think that it is a coinciding event that on Monday I am going into a five-day class which promises to be rich in other self-awareness. Who knows? A week from now, I will probably have a whole new lease on life, and Lord knows, I could use it. Stay tuned!
Wednesday a colleague briefed me on a personal assessment which indicated that I don't advocate for myself. That's a concept! Advocate for myself. It was totally right. I don't. I have to say that I was dumbstruck by the revelation though. Not that I would have argued that I do advocate for myself. It's just that advocating for myself has just never been on my radar.
As those of you who have been regular readers know, I've been working way too many hours all year, and I had drawn a line in the sand to stop in September. It was just "coincidence*" that the assessment was briefed for me on the morning of our second work day in September. As several hours passed, I became more and more aware of how many of the little irritants at work had been pushed on me simply because I let them be. Push back is just not something I've ever done. Now I get it.
Today was the third day in a row that I've only worked 9 to 9.5 hours. I am beginning to feel again. I took two dance classes tonight and actually have the physical energy and mental focus to fully participate. I had a lot of fun. I want more of this in my life.
At about 4 p.m. today, a schedule for a major project which will last most of the rest of the year was dumped on me. I was already at about 110% capacity through the second week of November. Tomorrow, I will push back. Technically, I've been breaking the law by working so many hours anyway, so I really can't see that there will be any negative consequences. If there are, can they really be any worse than a year of 12-hour days?
I finally got it: I have boundary issues. Self-awareness is really huge for me. Once I get something, I generally act decidedly on my intention to change. I know things are going to get a lot better now.
*In spirit speak, a coincidence is a coinciding event--two things that appear to be unrelated except by divine intervention--occur. I think that it is a coinciding event that on Monday I am going into a five-day class which promises to be rich in other self-awareness. Who knows? A week from now, I will probably have a whole new lease on life, and Lord knows, I could use it. Stay tuned!
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
The Little Extra Boost Near the Top
Over 20 years ago while rafting the wild and scenic Rogue River in Southern Oregon, our guide suggested that if we followed a creek about a quarter of a mile from the river that we would find a wonderful "swimming hole" at the bottom of a pretty little waterfall.
Our party couldn't resist. We walked the short quarter of a mile, and several jumped in to swim. I became intrigued with the waterfall. There was a rope hanging to the right of the fall. A number of high-school and college-aged men were climbing the 12 to 15 feet up the rope. When they got to the top, they would sit at the top of the waterfall for a minute or two, allowing the water to build pressure behind them. At a critical moment, each would use his hands to lift his rear just enough that the water would send him cascading into the pool below.
"I want to do that!" I said. I had not been known for either my courage or athletic prowess, and at the time, I was undecidedly in "middle age." Upper body strength wasn't a strong suit for me either. My companions thought I was joking. I was not. I wanted to do that. Amidst friendly joshing, I grabbed the rope and started the climb.
Between the ridges in the rocks and the rope, I did pretty well for the first eight to ten feet, but by that point, my arms were shaking from weakness. Slowly but surely, I continued my climb. Finally, when I was 12 to 18 inches from the top, I had no strength left. I could hardly hold the rope. The problem was there wasn't an easy way down, and I didn't think I could make it up. There I hung, shaking. By this point, jeers had turned to cheers. How could I stop now? But there was nothing left.
Just when I could go no further, two young men with arms the size of small trees reached down, each grabbing one of my shaking arms, and swooped my diminutive figure up to the ledge. It felt like a miracle to me. Actually, it was a miracle now that I think of it. That, it seems, was the easy part.
I don't know what I'd been thinking. I get shaky on a step ladder, and this ledge was easily two or three times the height of a ladder. What had I been thinking? What had looked like such fun at the bottom now looked terrifying. But, there was no other way down, and besides that, I was now firmly the center of attention from the adults below and the young men behind me.
The guys explained to me what I had to do, and one even demonstrated. They provided lots of encouragement. Courage was something I had to provide. I sat for several minutes at the top of the fall, much longer than any of them had. I could feel the water building up behind me. One said, you just need to lift up a little bit, and the water takes care of the rest. "Yeah," I said knowingly. That wasn't exactly the nudge I needed at the moment. I sat and sat. Much cheering continued from above and below.
I am not sure where it came from, but I finally found the courage to lift ever the slightest bit, and, just as promised, over I went. Faster than I knew what was happening, I was splashing in the pool below. I do believe that was the most exhilarating moment of my life.
In an extended meditation over the weekend, I kept seeing myself being pulled up by those two hunky young men. The metaphor was not wasted on me. I've been exhausted, just as I'd keep feeling, even promising myself, I was near the top of the ledge. I've been so exhausted that I've felt shaky and weak physically--not sure how I'd push on. I've felt like I couldn't see my way up, but there was no good way down. And, I've been hanging there for much of the year.
I uttered a prayer, "Dear God, please lift me up."
The words I heard back, "Only you can help yourself. You have it in you."
"Geez, God. Can't you do better than that? I wanted to feel you swoop me out of this situation, like those two young men did on the ledge."
Almost as soon as I took my minute to wallow in self-pity, I understood what I must do. The people I work with will not only allow, but will encourage and tacitly require the labor I've been putting in...until I refuse to do it any more. So I have. Instead of 11- and 12-hour days, I've work 9 and 9.5 the last two days. I left at a few minutes after my "normal" quitting time to have a drink with some women friends. Tomorrow, I will leave on time to make it to my tango class.
Having an extra two to three hours in the evening has been almost as exhilarating as splashing into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, but I think the real parallel to that experience is just around the corner.
Last week I wrote about being "Left Hanging" (8/26.) Two of the situations have resolved themselves. My trip was postponed until a time when I couldn't take it, and I got into the class for which I'd been on the waiting list. It ends up that the class is much more personal growth than I'd anticipated. It has been a decade since I've walked into those waters. As I've done pre-work activities, I've found myself really anticipating (8/8) the work. I expect that I am going to find myself almost as excited as I was when I splashed into that pool those years ago. I believe that I needed to do the work to get myself to the top, though, before I could feel the delight when it is finished.
Our party couldn't resist. We walked the short quarter of a mile, and several jumped in to swim. I became intrigued with the waterfall. There was a rope hanging to the right of the fall. A number of high-school and college-aged men were climbing the 12 to 15 feet up the rope. When they got to the top, they would sit at the top of the waterfall for a minute or two, allowing the water to build pressure behind them. At a critical moment, each would use his hands to lift his rear just enough that the water would send him cascading into the pool below.
"I want to do that!" I said. I had not been known for either my courage or athletic prowess, and at the time, I was undecidedly in "middle age." Upper body strength wasn't a strong suit for me either. My companions thought I was joking. I was not. I wanted to do that. Amidst friendly joshing, I grabbed the rope and started the climb.
Between the ridges in the rocks and the rope, I did pretty well for the first eight to ten feet, but by that point, my arms were shaking from weakness. Slowly but surely, I continued my climb. Finally, when I was 12 to 18 inches from the top, I had no strength left. I could hardly hold the rope. The problem was there wasn't an easy way down, and I didn't think I could make it up. There I hung, shaking. By this point, jeers had turned to cheers. How could I stop now? But there was nothing left.
Just when I could go no further, two young men with arms the size of small trees reached down, each grabbing one of my shaking arms, and swooped my diminutive figure up to the ledge. It felt like a miracle to me. Actually, it was a miracle now that I think of it. That, it seems, was the easy part.
I don't know what I'd been thinking. I get shaky on a step ladder, and this ledge was easily two or three times the height of a ladder. What had I been thinking? What had looked like such fun at the bottom now looked terrifying. But, there was no other way down, and besides that, I was now firmly the center of attention from the adults below and the young men behind me.
The guys explained to me what I had to do, and one even demonstrated. They provided lots of encouragement. Courage was something I had to provide. I sat for several minutes at the top of the fall, much longer than any of them had. I could feel the water building up behind me. One said, you just need to lift up a little bit, and the water takes care of the rest. "Yeah," I said knowingly. That wasn't exactly the nudge I needed at the moment. I sat and sat. Much cheering continued from above and below.
I am not sure where it came from, but I finally found the courage to lift ever the slightest bit, and, just as promised, over I went. Faster than I knew what was happening, I was splashing in the pool below. I do believe that was the most exhilarating moment of my life.
In an extended meditation over the weekend, I kept seeing myself being pulled up by those two hunky young men. The metaphor was not wasted on me. I've been exhausted, just as I'd keep feeling, even promising myself, I was near the top of the ledge. I've been so exhausted that I've felt shaky and weak physically--not sure how I'd push on. I've felt like I couldn't see my way up, but there was no good way down. And, I've been hanging there for much of the year.
I uttered a prayer, "Dear God, please lift me up."
The words I heard back, "Only you can help yourself. You have it in you."
"Geez, God. Can't you do better than that? I wanted to feel you swoop me out of this situation, like those two young men did on the ledge."
Almost as soon as I took my minute to wallow in self-pity, I understood what I must do. The people I work with will not only allow, but will encourage and tacitly require the labor I've been putting in...until I refuse to do it any more. So I have. Instead of 11- and 12-hour days, I've work 9 and 9.5 the last two days. I left at a few minutes after my "normal" quitting time to have a drink with some women friends. Tomorrow, I will leave on time to make it to my tango class.
Having an extra two to three hours in the evening has been almost as exhilarating as splashing into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, but I think the real parallel to that experience is just around the corner.
Last week I wrote about being "Left Hanging" (8/26.) Two of the situations have resolved themselves. My trip was postponed until a time when I couldn't take it, and I got into the class for which I'd been on the waiting list. It ends up that the class is much more personal growth than I'd anticipated. It has been a decade since I've walked into those waters. As I've done pre-work activities, I've found myself really anticipating (8/8) the work. I expect that I am going to find myself almost as excited as I was when I splashed into that pool those years ago. I believe that I needed to do the work to get myself to the top, though, before I could feel the delight when it is finished.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Labor Day
Today is Labor Day. When I was teaching, school started in mid-August, so the early September holiday was a good opportunity for me to give my university students an extra credit assignment. "What is this holiday about?" I'd ask, "and how does it relate to the subject of this class?"
I taught a number of classes--human resource management, organizational behavior, management strategy, and even labor relations. Labor Day had something to do with all of them. If you go to Google today, you will read, "Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers."
My students didn't get off that easily.
In the late 19th Century, a lot of blood was shed to acquire for workers basic rights that most of us take for granted today--paid vacation, sick leave, and benefits packages. While many achievements were the result of labor-management contracts that were assured by the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA,) which was passed in 1935, to my mind, the real impact of the labor movement came from legislation: legislation that prohibited child labor and made school attendance mandatory, a minimum wage, a 40-hour work week which allowed for overtime pay, and a reasonably safe workplace.
To a certain extent, the success of labor unions in accomplishing so much legislatively may have led to weakening the movement. With that weakening, coupled with the advent of technology which allows it, has come the 24x7 work life. As more and more employers have figured out ways to circumvent overtime pay, work days and work weeks have expanded dramatically.
In the years when American workers were treated more sanely, they produced incredible creativity and breakthroughs in productivity. In the last decade of the 20th Century many employers actually expressed and demonstrated an interest in the souls, spirits, and passions of their workers. A "Spirit in Business" movement blossomed across the country. (Really across the world, but my concern is what is happening with American workers.)
My first two books Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear were written to leaders who wanted to foster a more compassionate workplace. Not because the NLRB said that they had to negotiate or one piece of legislation or another required them to do so, but because in their hearts they knew it was the right thing to do, and they wanted to do the right thing.
On Labor Day, I am concerned that the kind of compassion and caring by employers that was reasonably common in the 1990s has all but disappeared today. I truly hope that people, who read this post, will reassess and ask themselves, "What can I do to make work in American more humane, more caring, and more compassionate?" Of course, it is easier to make an impact from a formal management role, but, like I said in Leading from the Heart, we are all leaders and have within us the ability to make a difference.
The difference that I am committing to make is to be more compassionate to myself. If my bosses choose not to, then I have to draw a line. I also commit to not feeling guilty because workaholic coworkers choose to work the despicable hours. Finally, I will do a lot of prayer work to find my way to a work situation where compassion is not only present but still rules the day.
I taught a number of classes--human resource management, organizational behavior, management strategy, and even labor relations. Labor Day had something to do with all of them. If you go to Google today, you will read, "Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers."
My students didn't get off that easily.
In the late 19th Century, a lot of blood was shed to acquire for workers basic rights that most of us take for granted today--paid vacation, sick leave, and benefits packages. While many achievements were the result of labor-management contracts that were assured by the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA,) which was passed in 1935, to my mind, the real impact of the labor movement came from legislation: legislation that prohibited child labor and made school attendance mandatory, a minimum wage, a 40-hour work week which allowed for overtime pay, and a reasonably safe workplace.
To a certain extent, the success of labor unions in accomplishing so much legislatively may have led to weakening the movement. With that weakening, coupled with the advent of technology which allows it, has come the 24x7 work life. As more and more employers have figured out ways to circumvent overtime pay, work days and work weeks have expanded dramatically.
In the years when American workers were treated more sanely, they produced incredible creativity and breakthroughs in productivity. In the last decade of the 20th Century many employers actually expressed and demonstrated an interest in the souls, spirits, and passions of their workers. A "Spirit in Business" movement blossomed across the country. (Really across the world, but my concern is what is happening with American workers.)
My first two books Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear were written to leaders who wanted to foster a more compassionate workplace. Not because the NLRB said that they had to negotiate or one piece of legislation or another required them to do so, but because in their hearts they knew it was the right thing to do, and they wanted to do the right thing.
On Labor Day, I am concerned that the kind of compassion and caring by employers that was reasonably common in the 1990s has all but disappeared today. I truly hope that people, who read this post, will reassess and ask themselves, "What can I do to make work in American more humane, more caring, and more compassionate?" Of course, it is easier to make an impact from a formal management role, but, like I said in Leading from the Heart, we are all leaders and have within us the ability to make a difference.
The difference that I am committing to make is to be more compassionate to myself. If my bosses choose not to, then I have to draw a line. I also commit to not feeling guilty because workaholic coworkers choose to work the despicable hours. Finally, I will do a lot of prayer work to find my way to a work situation where compassion is not only present but still rules the day.
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