When I conducted one-on-one Intentional Living Intensives with clients, we would start our days with prayer. As we sat quietly, I would tell them that I'd like for them to consider praying differently this time. "Let your prayers pray you," I would say.
I would continue to say that most of us were taught to ask for things or to invite guidance on decisions. Sometimes we said memorized prayers, such as the Lord's Prayer which Christians often recite or the childhood prayer of "Now I lay me down to sleep...." Generally, prayer has been something that came from our brains.
Yet when we read about prayer, often it suggests communion or communication. As my client and I reflected on how prayer might be different, I would often share some different definitions of prayer for us to ponder. Today I looked up communion on dictionary.com. After the Christian sacrament of communion were the definitions "an interchange or sharing of thoughts or emotions, intimate communication; the act of sharing, or holding in common." That was the kind of prayer I was suggesting.
We would often talk about the nature of communication and especially intimate communication. "Two way," my clients would often say. "Listening deeply...taking time to let things sink in...more silence." Rather than us talking to God from our heads, I would say, "Let try intimate communication."
When my clients stopped thinking about what they were going to "say" in prayer, and instead they concentrated more on "listening," "letting things sink in," and "silence," a commonality across my clients from different religions and even the occasional atheist or agnostic who came for this spiritual retreat emerged.
There was much more silence. Sometimes we'd sit for several minutes. What followed was often several minutes of gratitude but rarely gratitude for the things that my financially successful clients spent considerable energy pursuing. I lived in a house in the woods on a lake. "Thank you for the song of the birds," might come. "Thank you for the rain." "Thanks for the cycle of nature." "Guide us in our work today," I would usually say.
Almost always, my clients would say what a profound experience it had been to let their prayers pray them. I would always agree.
This morning I leave on a business trip, and I couldn't figure out the logistics of going to church and then making my travel schedule. I decided to take my worship time to meditate. Shortly after sitting, I heard, "Let your prayers pray you." I smiled. It had been a long time. There it was again. I live in different woods now, but the song of two birds, obviously communicating, was the first thing I was thankful for. Then what grabbed my attention was a site of chronic pain, so I was thankful for the parts of my body that worked well. In an instant, the pain source calmed and melted discomfort away.
For 25 minutes I let my prayers pray me. I don't remember any others now, but I didn't ask for anything. I sat in deep gratitude. I was in intimate communication with God. The profound stillness continues in me now. It was perfect.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
How little I knew then
It's Earth Day. I believe the 45th Earth Day to be exact.
For it's first two decades Earth Day was something that happened in the background of my life. I have always been an outdoors person, so I love nature; I just didn't love it in a proactive way.
On the 20th Earth Day I was home recovering from surgery. A local television station was reporting on Earth Day activities. As part of the coverage, commentators reported that residents of the small city in which I lived at the time recycled enough materials for fill the large university stadium seven times. Wow, I thought. That's a lot of recycling.
Until then, I hadn't recycled. Since I eat mainly fresh fruits and vegetables and very few packaged or canned goods, I had never thought that I would have much to recycle. The news story grabbed my attention. So that day, I dug out the recycling bin. I thought that even if it took weeks to fill, at least I'd be doing my part. It seemed like the least I could do.
Much to my surprise, when trash day came the next week, the recycling bin was full. The next week, full again. When the third week ended, the bin was full again. My imagination was captured. I wondered what else I might do that would help.
My shift to consciousness about sustainability has been a slow one, more characterized by paying attention, mostly to small things. After recycling, I started reusing paper grocery bags. I discovered that I could use the same ones over and over and over again. They just kept on functioning. Once I was curious so when I got a new bag, I wrote the date on the bottom. That bag lasted 50 weeks. Before I was paying attention, I probably would have gone through at least 100 bags in that time.
Then I read how negatively meat production impacted the environment. Gradually, I became more conscious of what I ate and how it was produced. First, meatless Mondays. Then meatless a lot of other days. Sometimes months without meat. I didn't miss it, and I genuinely think I felt better most of the time.
As I read more about sustainability, I learned how living in a multistory building conserved more resources. I moved to a city, near a Metro line, and I only occasionally drove my car on weekends. Then I got rid of the car. I walked, took the Metro, or cycled around the city. I felt better physically, and I felt really good that I was doing my part.
Over the last 25 years, I've probably learned as much about intentionality from my gradually evolving commitment to sustainability as anything I've done in my life. Now I carry empty plastic bottles home so that I can recycle them. One decision at a time I've chosen to show how much I love our beautiful planet.
For it's first two decades Earth Day was something that happened in the background of my life. I have always been an outdoors person, so I love nature; I just didn't love it in a proactive way.
On the 20th Earth Day I was home recovering from surgery. A local television station was reporting on Earth Day activities. As part of the coverage, commentators reported that residents of the small city in which I lived at the time recycled enough materials for fill the large university stadium seven times. Wow, I thought. That's a lot of recycling.
Until then, I hadn't recycled. Since I eat mainly fresh fruits and vegetables and very few packaged or canned goods, I had never thought that I would have much to recycle. The news story grabbed my attention. So that day, I dug out the recycling bin. I thought that even if it took weeks to fill, at least I'd be doing my part. It seemed like the least I could do.
Much to my surprise, when trash day came the next week, the recycling bin was full. The next week, full again. When the third week ended, the bin was full again. My imagination was captured. I wondered what else I might do that would help.
My shift to consciousness about sustainability has been a slow one, more characterized by paying attention, mostly to small things. After recycling, I started reusing paper grocery bags. I discovered that I could use the same ones over and over and over again. They just kept on functioning. Once I was curious so when I got a new bag, I wrote the date on the bottom. That bag lasted 50 weeks. Before I was paying attention, I probably would have gone through at least 100 bags in that time.
Then I read how negatively meat production impacted the environment. Gradually, I became more conscious of what I ate and how it was produced. First, meatless Mondays. Then meatless a lot of other days. Sometimes months without meat. I didn't miss it, and I genuinely think I felt better most of the time.
As I read more about sustainability, I learned how living in a multistory building conserved more resources. I moved to a city, near a Metro line, and I only occasionally drove my car on weekends. Then I got rid of the car. I walked, took the Metro, or cycled around the city. I felt better physically, and I felt really good that I was doing my part.
Over the last 25 years, I've probably learned as much about intentionality from my gradually evolving commitment to sustainability as anything I've done in my life. Now I carry empty plastic bottles home so that I can recycle them. One decision at a time I've chosen to show how much I love our beautiful planet.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Burned out, compassion fatigue, or ???
As I've worked my way through the stack of half-read books on my nightstand, Give and Take by Adam Grant has recaptured my attention. When I lost interest in the book, Grant had been sharing stories of individuals that were givers, takers, and matchers--those who attempt to giving and taking. Grant's research indicates that those who are givers are more successful over time. Made sense to me. Yawn! I generally tire quickly of books that share too much data, and that is exactly what occurred with Give and Take.
When I went back to the book to see if I would abandon it or dig deeper, the last half of the book called to me. Yesterday I read more. "The Art of Motivation Maintenance" was compelling. Grant described that, while givers tended to be more successful over the long run, some givers burn out while others, like Energizer Bunnies, seem to find an inner reservoir that keeps them going.
In the late 1990s a colleague and I wrote two cover articles for Family Practice Medicine, a journal for physicians who practice family medicine. One was on burnout. I loved the cover artwork of a charred landscape, devoid of life except for a single daisy in bloom in the foreground. The image so spoke to the feeling people suffering from burnout often have of feeling almost dead and struggling to keep what remains alive. The other piece focused on compassion fatigue, a related condition suffered in the giving professions. I've read and thought about these topics a lot and had some success coaching those who struggle with them.
Grant's more recent research on these topics was new to me. Grant describes "Otherish Givers" and "Selfless Givers." While it might be intuitive that Selfless Givers would be less likely to burn out, it is actually just the opposite. The Otherish Givers are ones that, when exhausted by giving, give more. When they are exhausted though, they give somewhere else, and they give to a program that results in a personal reward or pleasure. In other words their alternative giving recharges them. It's been too many years for me to remember my clients circumstances exactly, but I do believe that the ones I recall were the Selfless Givers, who didn't recharge.
All of this is timely personally. Over the last few months, I've really been feeling burned out with long hours and client groups which demand more and more of me, leaving nothing for the things that bring me joy. Well, duh! Grant would say that this is just the time I need to find some joyful giving to recharge me.
The funny thing is that in just this week, I've flirted with five different volunteer opportunities, and each time I passed on them because I thought I needed to be better at protecting my boundaries and saving time for myself.
As counter-intuitive as it seems to me, this recharge by giving makes total sense. Rather than just picking whatever opportunity presents itself, I want to be thoughtful. In each case that Grant described in "The Art of Motivation Maintenance," the alternative giving activities that burned out givers chose were to programs about which they had personal passion. It seems to me that the personal passion they had is what allowed the alternative giving to be so rewarding to them.
As I write this, I have pondered, when was the last time I felt energized by something I was doing. In the instant that I had the question, I knew the answer. For over a year, I wrote this blog almost every day, and I had a small (50-60) following, scattered around the world. Although I was often challenged to fit the writing into my schedule, when I did so, I found the time deeply rewarding. I can only assume that what I wrote must have had some value to my readers as well, since they kept coming back.
When the work has been more demanding, one of the corners that I've rounded has been writing for this blog, and I am pretty certain that doing so is the very thing that could have been recharging me. Not only am I giving value to a small group of people, but I am using a natural talent to do so. That recharges me and brings significant joy into my life. Finally, I learn so much about myself and what my intentions in life could/should be by working through these ideas with my readers.
The answer to the question inferred in this title, "Burned out, compassion fatigue, or ???" for me must be "Write!"
When I went back to the book to see if I would abandon it or dig deeper, the last half of the book called to me. Yesterday I read more. "The Art of Motivation Maintenance" was compelling. Grant described that, while givers tended to be more successful over the long run, some givers burn out while others, like Energizer Bunnies, seem to find an inner reservoir that keeps them going.
In the late 1990s a colleague and I wrote two cover articles for Family Practice Medicine, a journal for physicians who practice family medicine. One was on burnout. I loved the cover artwork of a charred landscape, devoid of life except for a single daisy in bloom in the foreground. The image so spoke to the feeling people suffering from burnout often have of feeling almost dead and struggling to keep what remains alive. The other piece focused on compassion fatigue, a related condition suffered in the giving professions. I've read and thought about these topics a lot and had some success coaching those who struggle with them.
Grant's more recent research on these topics was new to me. Grant describes "Otherish Givers" and "Selfless Givers." While it might be intuitive that Selfless Givers would be less likely to burn out, it is actually just the opposite. The Otherish Givers are ones that, when exhausted by giving, give more. When they are exhausted though, they give somewhere else, and they give to a program that results in a personal reward or pleasure. In other words their alternative giving recharges them. It's been too many years for me to remember my clients circumstances exactly, but I do believe that the ones I recall were the Selfless Givers, who didn't recharge.
All of this is timely personally. Over the last few months, I've really been feeling burned out with long hours and client groups which demand more and more of me, leaving nothing for the things that bring me joy. Well, duh! Grant would say that this is just the time I need to find some joyful giving to recharge me.
The funny thing is that in just this week, I've flirted with five different volunteer opportunities, and each time I passed on them because I thought I needed to be better at protecting my boundaries and saving time for myself.
As counter-intuitive as it seems to me, this recharge by giving makes total sense. Rather than just picking whatever opportunity presents itself, I want to be thoughtful. In each case that Grant described in "The Art of Motivation Maintenance," the alternative giving activities that burned out givers chose were to programs about which they had personal passion. It seems to me that the personal passion they had is what allowed the alternative giving to be so rewarding to them.
As I write this, I have pondered, when was the last time I felt energized by something I was doing. In the instant that I had the question, I knew the answer. For over a year, I wrote this blog almost every day, and I had a small (50-60) following, scattered around the world. Although I was often challenged to fit the writing into my schedule, when I did so, I found the time deeply rewarding. I can only assume that what I wrote must have had some value to my readers as well, since they kept coming back.
When the work has been more demanding, one of the corners that I've rounded has been writing for this blog, and I am pretty certain that doing so is the very thing that could have been recharging me. Not only am I giving value to a small group of people, but I am using a natural talent to do so. That recharges me and brings significant joy into my life. Finally, I learn so much about myself and what my intentions in life could/should be by working through these ideas with my readers.
The answer to the question inferred in this title, "Burned out, compassion fatigue, or ???" for me must be "Write!"
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Rejoice!
A young seminarian spoke at services this morning, and she called on a scriptural passage that included that there had been rejoicing. She explored how often in scripture that we read what is around the rejoicing, but don't really consider that the rejoicing itself is as important.
Leaving the church in downtown DC in the middle of the "peak" weekend of the Cherry Blossom Festival, I couldn't help but think of her words as I looked at nature rejoicing around me. I wish I knew the names of all of the blooming trees and bushes, but suffice it to say, they were exploding in a range of whites and pinks, accented by the yellow of forsythia all about. I stopped and chatted with a homeless "friend" after leaving the Metro, and as the warmth of the sun bathed us, we talked about how wonderful the singing of all the birds.
Those who have read this blog for a while know how excited I get when nature produces splendid displays. Astrologically, I am an earth sign. I don't follow astrology all that much, but I wonder if that is why I am so impacted by nature. I know there is nothing that makes me feel closer to God than one of these explosions of nature.
Today, I can't help but wonder whether rejoicing with nature isn't similar to the scriptural references to rejoicing. We get caught up in whatever is happening on stage and totally miss the splendor of the sets the establish the tone for our lives. I am going to be very intentional this season about letting all the "stuff" that is going on in my life be less important and allowing the rejoicing of nature around me be what is truly important.
Leaving the church in downtown DC in the middle of the "peak" weekend of the Cherry Blossom Festival, I couldn't help but think of her words as I looked at nature rejoicing around me. I wish I knew the names of all of the blooming trees and bushes, but suffice it to say, they were exploding in a range of whites and pinks, accented by the yellow of forsythia all about. I stopped and chatted with a homeless "friend" after leaving the Metro, and as the warmth of the sun bathed us, we talked about how wonderful the singing of all the birds.
Those who have read this blog for a while know how excited I get when nature produces splendid displays. Astrologically, I am an earth sign. I don't follow astrology all that much, but I wonder if that is why I am so impacted by nature. I know there is nothing that makes me feel closer to God than one of these explosions of nature.
Today, I can't help but wonder whether rejoicing with nature isn't similar to the scriptural references to rejoicing. We get caught up in whatever is happening on stage and totally miss the splendor of the sets the establish the tone for our lives. I am going to be very intentional this season about letting all the "stuff" that is going on in my life be less important and allowing the rejoicing of nature around me be what is truly important.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Working empty
Last week I did good work with a leadership team. They learned a lot, both about material I presented and about themselves, individually and as a team. It was "good" work--not "great" work. Certainly not "inspired" work.
I used to do a lot of "inspired" work. I showed up. Before others arrived, I meditated and prayed to "empty" myself. I asked to be an instrument of God's love. When people arrived, I worked with them. What they brought up was the agenda. They inevitably led me to questions which took us to where the work needed to occur. Oh, I'd done work before the event. Usually, I'd interviewed participants and often attended a few of their meetings, but the most important thing I brought to the session was my emptiness.
That was all when I was self-employed. I was free to be empty, and I was free to be "inspired."
Then I went to work for other employers. First it was for consulting firms, and then I became a federal government civil servant. Deliverables and expectations about what those demanded drove my work. A PowerPoint deck was mandatory, and planned activities were essential. Workbooks were necessary. Every minute needed to be planned for and scripted. Soon the charade started feeling like training and very little like OD. Every inch of the emptiness was full, and I went from doing "inspired" work to orchestrating "good" work.
The proscription in medicine is to "do no harm." "Do no harm" is implicit in organization development as well. I don't think I've ever harmed any person or group. As the world of delivering to expectations drove me though, "doing no harm" became the necessity rather than "healing."
Lyricist and philosopher John Lennon wrote, "Love is all there is." When I did "inspired" work, knowing that love was all there is was my compass--my true north. If I emptied myself and held a room in love, the truth of all the things that separated them from love just bubbled up.
At last it is spring. For Christians, Easter marks a time of rebirth. Jews remember the passage from slavery to freedom and a new life under God's guidance. Everywhere people see new birth of animals and plants as the days grow longer. Amidst all that clutters our lives over the months during which nature passes through its cycles is love.
Now at the time of rebirth, we have time to blow it all away and remember that whatever we do and wherever we go "love is all there is." If we will let it, all the other stuff will fill us with illusions of what is. Our job is to empty ourselves and allow love to drive whatever we do.
I used to do a lot of "inspired" work. I showed up. Before others arrived, I meditated and prayed to "empty" myself. I asked to be an instrument of God's love. When people arrived, I worked with them. What they brought up was the agenda. They inevitably led me to questions which took us to where the work needed to occur. Oh, I'd done work before the event. Usually, I'd interviewed participants and often attended a few of their meetings, but the most important thing I brought to the session was my emptiness.
That was all when I was self-employed. I was free to be empty, and I was free to be "inspired."
Then I went to work for other employers. First it was for consulting firms, and then I became a federal government civil servant. Deliverables and expectations about what those demanded drove my work. A PowerPoint deck was mandatory, and planned activities were essential. Workbooks were necessary. Every minute needed to be planned for and scripted. Soon the charade started feeling like training and very little like OD. Every inch of the emptiness was full, and I went from doing "inspired" work to orchestrating "good" work.
The proscription in medicine is to "do no harm." "Do no harm" is implicit in organization development as well. I don't think I've ever harmed any person or group. As the world of delivering to expectations drove me though, "doing no harm" became the necessity rather than "healing."
Lyricist and philosopher John Lennon wrote, "Love is all there is." When I did "inspired" work, knowing that love was all there is was my compass--my true north. If I emptied myself and held a room in love, the truth of all the things that separated them from love just bubbled up.
At last it is spring. For Christians, Easter marks a time of rebirth. Jews remember the passage from slavery to freedom and a new life under God's guidance. Everywhere people see new birth of animals and plants as the days grow longer. Amidst all that clutters our lives over the months during which nature passes through its cycles is love.
Now at the time of rebirth, we have time to blow it all away and remember that whatever we do and wherever we go "love is all there is." If we will let it, all the other stuff will fill us with illusions of what is. Our job is to empty ourselves and allow love to drive whatever we do.
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