I went by my old office today to plug my computer into the network, which updates software and allows me to perform functions that I can only perform when I am "in house." I thought I would coach two clients from there rather than by phone since I was in the building. I needed to chat with my boss about my detail. Slam dunk, I thought: three hours tops. Out by 4 p.m., I guessed. Wrong! I walked out just before the 7 p.m. closing of the entrance to our building closest to the Metro.
How did this happen, I thought, as the security guard swung by our office at 6 to see why I was there so late. I've continued to ponder that question into the evening. I took a walk and thought about it more. I need to be better about establishing priorities and setting boundaries. I have made the assumption that if something was on my plate, I had to do it.
As I walked, I thought, I need to be better about assessing the consequences. If bad consequences will result, I should probably do a task. If really bad consequences will result, I should definitely do it. But, what, I asked myself were bad consequences. I've learned during this detail that I can push things off for several months that I used to think needed immediate attention. No bad consequences. No dire consequences.
I also thought about what were bad consequences. I actually sat and brought my relaxed self to conversations with three colleagues. I took time to embrace and connect with another colleague who is battling cancer and was back in the office. Sitting and talking have not been luxuries that I thought I could afford, but the truth is that neglecting those relationships may have carried the worst consequences.
Yes, I will submit my input for my evaluation for to not do so would be foolish and may have significant consequences. But, my email box that is in Outlook Limbo, I have no ideas what will happen if it overflows. So I don't get email. I have an out-of-office message that says I won't be back until February. Shrug! Somewhere in between is the password that I need to update, which seems always to need to be updated. Maybe yes, maybe no.
Most important of my discoveries today is that I need to make myself a priority. I am much better leaving an office at 5 than at 7, especially since my days start at 7:30. Getting my exercise, having a relaxed dinner, reading a book, and getting a good night's sleep have been the bottom on my priorities, which I've learned are really nourishing to me.
If this all seems like common sense that I could/should have figured out decades ago, you're right. I should have. I didn't. I am getting it now. Better late than never.
Friday, October 23, 2015
Thursday, October 22, 2015
Spiritual Loneliness
Most of us have seen movies or television depictions of addicts in drug withdrawal. One of the most moving performances that I recall was that of Diana Ross in the 1972 movie, "Lady Sings the Blues," which portrays the struggle that jazz icon Billie Holiday had with heroin. Ross made her audience feel Holiday's pain. (I still think she deserved the Academy Award for the performance.)
As I've been withdrawing from work addiction, I too have been adjusting to physical changes. While I have been working fewer hours and having more fun, I do find that I am often very tired, and I've been sleeping...a lot.
Work addiction triggers other addictions, and it ends up that one of the most destructive is adrenaline addiction. Adrenaline is a powerful hormone, which nature gave us for emergencies--when we needed to pull out the stops and do something extraordinary. The classic example is the mom which finds it within herself to lift a car when her child is trapped beneath it. Adrenaline is supposed to help us do something extraordinary in unusual circumstances.
However, increasingly, adrenaline is being used just to get through our normal daily schedules, where multi-tasking and long hours have become the order of the day. We, myself included, have often used it to keep us focused on what is in front of us in that moment...and the next...and the next.
I am sure that, rarely having needed the addictive hormone in the last month, I should expect some withdrawal symptoms. Most troubling to me is how detached that I must have become to my body's physical needs. Somehow the adrenaline has allowed me to push down my exhaustion so I didn't notice it until I was out from under the destructive influence of the hormone's destructive power when it is used habitually to just get through life.
More important than the physical withdrawal is the spiritual loneliness that I've been feeling. Back in the day when I lived a normal, relaxed life, I meditated daily, and I prayed off and on all day. Dancing gave me a physical creative outlet almost daily.
My writing kept me in touch with my soul and how I connected with all of human kind through my soul. Although I've had more time recently, I haven't written much in this blog for these weeks. I have almost never, even as a child, sat down to write and not had words flow through me.
But, they just haven't been flowing. I would sit and stare at the computer screen, and nothing would come. Or a thought would come, and it would be gone as fast as it came because I'd be so physically tired from the adrenaline withdrawal. Only this week have I been able to sit and get my words again.
Almost always in my life, I've been able to push through what was in front of me and get done what needed to get done. I've thought that a good thing. Determination and perseverance of qualities valued in our culture. Now I am not sure that the ability to push through whatever is in front of me is a good thing, certainly not for me. I've used those qualities instead of establishing priorities and setting boundaries. I've tried to prove I could do it all, without ever asking myself "What is the value of doing it all?" And even, "Is that value something that is meaningful to me?"
I've written a lot about intention, and I've even written about buying into our culture's expectations to the exclusion of our personal spiritual intentions. And without adrenaline masking what was happening, I can see how I've been seduced by the cultural norms. Now, stripped of the adrenaline, relaxed, and much more conscious, I feel spiritual loneliness. I am aware that I've lost important pieces of myself along the way, and I haven't really known exactly how to begin reclaiming them.
As I write, deep within me is a muffled chuckle: "You had to come to this," it says. On New Year's Eve 1997, I finished my first draft of a manuscript for the book Choice Point. I worked on it for another couple of years after that, polishing it. About 50 people read it and thought it was an important work. I was never able to find a publisher for it. In the craziness of the last 15 years, Choice Point has gathered dust on a shelf, becoming badly dated.
The book is about choosing your soul's intention for its life, rather than buying into expectations of the popular culture around us. I believe the principles are solid, but when I wrote it in the 1990s, I was in my relaxed period, and I couldn't really understand, or maybe remember, what it was like to make those hard choices. I hadn't made them for a very long time. In the frenetic years, I couldn't write about them, because I wasn't conscious enough. Now, in my spiritual loneliness, I see the potential to bring life to the manuscript with full consciousness of the spiritual sacrifices that we often make, without even being aware we are making them. That is the knowing of the muffled, "You had to come to this."
My experience reflects this truth: when I am writing a book, I need to live it before it can be birthed into the world. So it was with Leading from the Heart, subtitled "choosing courage over fear." I repeatedly had to reach deep within myself to find the courage of my heart. As I was birthing The Alchemy of Fear, I had to face some of my deepest fears. I am not surprised then that the Universe has provided me with this opportunity to step into my spiritual loneliness and find the truth of Choice Point.
As I've been withdrawing from work addiction, I too have been adjusting to physical changes. While I have been working fewer hours and having more fun, I do find that I am often very tired, and I've been sleeping...a lot.
Work addiction triggers other addictions, and it ends up that one of the most destructive is adrenaline addiction. Adrenaline is a powerful hormone, which nature gave us for emergencies--when we needed to pull out the stops and do something extraordinary. The classic example is the mom which finds it within herself to lift a car when her child is trapped beneath it. Adrenaline is supposed to help us do something extraordinary in unusual circumstances.
However, increasingly, adrenaline is being used just to get through our normal daily schedules, where multi-tasking and long hours have become the order of the day. We, myself included, have often used it to keep us focused on what is in front of us in that moment...and the next...and the next.
I am sure that, rarely having needed the addictive hormone in the last month, I should expect some withdrawal symptoms. Most troubling to me is how detached that I must have become to my body's physical needs. Somehow the adrenaline has allowed me to push down my exhaustion so I didn't notice it until I was out from under the destructive influence of the hormone's destructive power when it is used habitually to just get through life.
More important than the physical withdrawal is the spiritual loneliness that I've been feeling. Back in the day when I lived a normal, relaxed life, I meditated daily, and I prayed off and on all day. Dancing gave me a physical creative outlet almost daily.
My writing kept me in touch with my soul and how I connected with all of human kind through my soul. Although I've had more time recently, I haven't written much in this blog for these weeks. I have almost never, even as a child, sat down to write and not had words flow through me.
But, they just haven't been flowing. I would sit and stare at the computer screen, and nothing would come. Or a thought would come, and it would be gone as fast as it came because I'd be so physically tired from the adrenaline withdrawal. Only this week have I been able to sit and get my words again.
Almost always in my life, I've been able to push through what was in front of me and get done what needed to get done. I've thought that a good thing. Determination and perseverance of qualities valued in our culture. Now I am not sure that the ability to push through whatever is in front of me is a good thing, certainly not for me. I've used those qualities instead of establishing priorities and setting boundaries. I've tried to prove I could do it all, without ever asking myself "What is the value of doing it all?" And even, "Is that value something that is meaningful to me?"
I've written a lot about intention, and I've even written about buying into our culture's expectations to the exclusion of our personal spiritual intentions. And without adrenaline masking what was happening, I can see how I've been seduced by the cultural norms. Now, stripped of the adrenaline, relaxed, and much more conscious, I feel spiritual loneliness. I am aware that I've lost important pieces of myself along the way, and I haven't really known exactly how to begin reclaiming them.
As I write, deep within me is a muffled chuckle: "You had to come to this," it says. On New Year's Eve 1997, I finished my first draft of a manuscript for the book Choice Point. I worked on it for another couple of years after that, polishing it. About 50 people read it and thought it was an important work. I was never able to find a publisher for it. In the craziness of the last 15 years, Choice Point has gathered dust on a shelf, becoming badly dated.
The book is about choosing your soul's intention for its life, rather than buying into expectations of the popular culture around us. I believe the principles are solid, but when I wrote it in the 1990s, I was in my relaxed period, and I couldn't really understand, or maybe remember, what it was like to make those hard choices. I hadn't made them for a very long time. In the frenetic years, I couldn't write about them, because I wasn't conscious enough. Now, in my spiritual loneliness, I see the potential to bring life to the manuscript with full consciousness of the spiritual sacrifices that we often make, without even being aware we are making them. That is the knowing of the muffled, "You had to come to this."
My experience reflects this truth: when I am writing a book, I need to live it before it can be birthed into the world. So it was with Leading from the Heart, subtitled "choosing courage over fear." I repeatedly had to reach deep within myself to find the courage of my heart. As I was birthing The Alchemy of Fear, I had to face some of my deepest fears. I am not surprised then that the Universe has provided me with this opportunity to step into my spiritual loneliness and find the truth of Choice Point.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Welcome back...to the world, that is!
Today I have completed one month on my new temporary assignment. Two days ago I went back to my home agency to spend a few minutes with each of several people with whom I had loose ends to tie. It was unanimous: "You look so relaxed!" each of them said. I actually had to sit for 15 minutes outside the office of one of them, waiting for her to be free. And, I just sat there...relaxed, breathing. What a difference a month makes.
How did I get here in just 30 days? Well, let's start with where I was a month ago. I'd been working 12-hour days for years. I almost never got to eat lunch unless it was grabbing a bite, quite literally on the run. Meetings were scheduled back-to-back, every 30 to 60 minutes, with no breaks, meaning that drinking water and bathroom stops were luxuries about which I'd forgotten.
When I walked out of the office at 7:30 most evenings and commuted home, I usually hit the door, headed to the kitchen to make coffee for morning, prepare lunch for those fleeting pass-throughs of my office when I might grab a morsel on the run, and cooked dinner, which I then tried to eat without falling asleep in my plate. (Usually, but not always successful. Success was usually contingent on the day of the week. Higher likelihood of staying awake through dinner on Monday than Friday.)
That had been my life for years. So, when I started this new job which allowed me to work a "normal" workday and then walk to a Metro stop that was closer to home, My old programming was still in place. One of the first evenings, I came home and did all of the above without falling asleep, and when I was cleaning the dishes from dinner, I glanced over at the clock, and it was 7:00! I had done all that stuff, and it was still earlier than I had been accustomed to leaving the office. I literally heaved a sigh...and then laughed out loud.
I quickly adjusted to being able to do things after work--run an errand or two, go to a dinner at my church or with a friend, go to a movie, volunteer for a local theater and see the play without falling asleep, do my laundry or pay bills on a week night, leaving time for more fun stuff on the weekend. And, I started breathing and moved at a normal, rather than break-neck, pace.
When each of my appointments acknowledged how relaxed I looked Monday, I felt acknowledgement that I was back in the world--I am a real person again.
On September 29, just days after starting the new job, I wrote in this blog that I had discovered that my accelerator had stuck in high gear, and I pledged to use these four and a half months to remember how I used to live. I have to admit that early in my career, I had been a workaholic, and like any addiction, once an addict, always an addict. When things got tight, in the early 2000s, I just fell right off the wagon and back into those old habits.
But, I do remember a very long time when I lived a sane life, stopping at the gym on the way home from work, having a drink and going over mail with my partner, and cooking together joyfully in the kitchen. After it was established and when my business was going well, I both exercised and danced almost every day, and I took time to write. I cooked for fun and even played the piano occasionally, although never well. My life was full but relaxed much of the time.
I have proven that I can reclaim that part of me again. I have yet to prove that I can sustain it. I do know that I need to be clearer about my boundaries, and I am optimistic that with a new boss when I return, I can maintain them. Yet, I know the Universe abhors a vacuum, and the Universe of a recovering workaholic certainly abhors a vacuum. I am being very intentional about identifying and exercising practices which will solidify my resolve. Writing regularly again is one of them. So is exercising. Pleasure reading is up there too. I want to learn to do those things so regularly in the next three and a half months that my new healthier habits will sustain me when I go back to my old job.
I understand that having a life is a choice, and it is a choice that I am going to make, each and every day in the future.
How did I get here in just 30 days? Well, let's start with where I was a month ago. I'd been working 12-hour days for years. I almost never got to eat lunch unless it was grabbing a bite, quite literally on the run. Meetings were scheduled back-to-back, every 30 to 60 minutes, with no breaks, meaning that drinking water and bathroom stops were luxuries about which I'd forgotten.
When I walked out of the office at 7:30 most evenings and commuted home, I usually hit the door, headed to the kitchen to make coffee for morning, prepare lunch for those fleeting pass-throughs of my office when I might grab a morsel on the run, and cooked dinner, which I then tried to eat without falling asleep in my plate. (Usually, but not always successful. Success was usually contingent on the day of the week. Higher likelihood of staying awake through dinner on Monday than Friday.)
That had been my life for years. So, when I started this new job which allowed me to work a "normal" workday and then walk to a Metro stop that was closer to home, My old programming was still in place. One of the first evenings, I came home and did all of the above without falling asleep, and when I was cleaning the dishes from dinner, I glanced over at the clock, and it was 7:00! I had done all that stuff, and it was still earlier than I had been accustomed to leaving the office. I literally heaved a sigh...and then laughed out loud.
I quickly adjusted to being able to do things after work--run an errand or two, go to a dinner at my church or with a friend, go to a movie, volunteer for a local theater and see the play without falling asleep, do my laundry or pay bills on a week night, leaving time for more fun stuff on the weekend. And, I started breathing and moved at a normal, rather than break-neck, pace.
When each of my appointments acknowledged how relaxed I looked Monday, I felt acknowledgement that I was back in the world--I am a real person again.
On September 29, just days after starting the new job, I wrote in this blog that I had discovered that my accelerator had stuck in high gear, and I pledged to use these four and a half months to remember how I used to live. I have to admit that early in my career, I had been a workaholic, and like any addiction, once an addict, always an addict. When things got tight, in the early 2000s, I just fell right off the wagon and back into those old habits.
But, I do remember a very long time when I lived a sane life, stopping at the gym on the way home from work, having a drink and going over mail with my partner, and cooking together joyfully in the kitchen. After it was established and when my business was going well, I both exercised and danced almost every day, and I took time to write. I cooked for fun and even played the piano occasionally, although never well. My life was full but relaxed much of the time.
I have proven that I can reclaim that part of me again. I have yet to prove that I can sustain it. I do know that I need to be clearer about my boundaries, and I am optimistic that with a new boss when I return, I can maintain them. Yet, I know the Universe abhors a vacuum, and the Universe of a recovering workaholic certainly abhors a vacuum. I am being very intentional about identifying and exercising practices which will solidify my resolve. Writing regularly again is one of them. So is exercising. Pleasure reading is up there too. I want to learn to do those things so regularly in the next three and a half months that my new healthier habits will sustain me when I go back to my old job.
I understand that having a life is a choice, and it is a choice that I am going to make, each and every day in the future.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
In Service
A few weeks ago when Pope Francis was in the United States, he said, "Live authentically in a concrete commitment to our neighbor." The following Sunday our pastor's sermon was on the duty to serve our fellow humans.
This week the scripture once again pointed to service, but this time to service to God. You might easily summarize the text with President John Kennedy's famous quotation, "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country," except substituting "God" for "country."
In his remarks, our pastor ran through a litany of things that we ask God for: to get the job we want, to get in the university we want, to get the promotion we want, to have the romance we want, to have or recover health, to receive an important reward, to bring rain, to have the rains stop...you get the gist. I have heard God referred to as the great carhop in the sky that we constantly turn to in order to bring us something we want.
Without doubt some of us do pray, "God show me where you need me," or "Allow me to be of service." And, often that comes with a caveat. When I was spiritual coach to executives in the 1990s, one woman tearfully said how she wanted to be of service, but wasn't getting guidance. As we talked, she clarified, God wanted her to do something up north, and she couldn't stand to be cold. Really? "Oh, God, please use me between 9 and 4 on weekdays and only in places that aren't too hot or cold or wet or dry." I am not sure that is how the prayer to be of service goes.
When doing the spiritual coaching, I used to remind clients that when they prayed, they needed to listen at least as much as talk, but most of us who do pray tend to talk a lot more than listen. When we do listen, it is with filters about what we find acceptable to hear.
Spiritual listening is like a muscle, which must be worked regularly to become strong. I am finding that in my own life. In the 1990s when I had my own business and more or less controlled my schedule, my spiritual listening muscles were strong. I regularly received very clear and precise guidance from whatever it is out there that I call God. I was quite comfortable with totally changing course on a speech right in the middle of it, calling someone I didn't know for a conversation, and even moving across the nation to a place where I knew no one and didn't have work. Things always worked out.
As those of you who follow this blog know, I am in a 4-1/2 month stint in a different job, raising money for 20,000 charities in an annual giving campaign. I love being of service. I am one of a group of loaned executives working with groups of managers with whom we brainstorm, track progress, share ideas, and even cheer-lead as they run their individual campaigns. I love it. I truly feel like I am serving--I am serving the agency campaign managers, and I am serving the charities who will do service with the money we raise.
The more normal work schedule I now have allows me to do some other things as well. I have done some things at my church on week nights, and last week I volunteered at a theater, which I used to serve. But I need to give more of myself. My listening muscles have grown flabby from lack of use, or maybe I stopped getting messages because I was so regularly finding myself needing to ignore them. (Neither my boss nor my clients would have taken well to me not showing up for an event I was leading because I'd been called to write that day.) I truly don't know if I stopped getting them because I didn't follow, or if I got so good at ignoring them that I no longer hear them.
This morning in church I noticed a line in our "prayers for the people" that I have missed before. I truly don't remember it, but I think I was listening differently this morning, "Free us from lack of vision, and from inertia of will and spirit." Ouch! I am not sure, but I think "inertia of will and spirit" may be the result of flabby listening muscles. It took me a few weeks to physically recover myself from the long hours of my regular job. I am now entering a stage of spiritual recovery in which I intend to recover my listening muscles.
Winston Churchill once said, "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give." Whether I follow Pope Francis's encouragement to "Live authentically in a concrete commitment to our neighbor" or this week's scriptural encouragement to be of service to God, which in the end is likely to be the same, I think it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I step into a space where I am focused on giving instead surviving.
This week the scripture once again pointed to service, but this time to service to God. You might easily summarize the text with President John Kennedy's famous quotation, "Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country," except substituting "God" for "country."
In his remarks, our pastor ran through a litany of things that we ask God for: to get the job we want, to get in the university we want, to get the promotion we want, to have the romance we want, to have or recover health, to receive an important reward, to bring rain, to have the rains stop...you get the gist. I have heard God referred to as the great carhop in the sky that we constantly turn to in order to bring us something we want.
Without doubt some of us do pray, "God show me where you need me," or "Allow me to be of service." And, often that comes with a caveat. When I was spiritual coach to executives in the 1990s, one woman tearfully said how she wanted to be of service, but wasn't getting guidance. As we talked, she clarified, God wanted her to do something up north, and she couldn't stand to be cold. Really? "Oh, God, please use me between 9 and 4 on weekdays and only in places that aren't too hot or cold or wet or dry." I am not sure that is how the prayer to be of service goes.
When doing the spiritual coaching, I used to remind clients that when they prayed, they needed to listen at least as much as talk, but most of us who do pray tend to talk a lot more than listen. When we do listen, it is with filters about what we find acceptable to hear.
Spiritual listening is like a muscle, which must be worked regularly to become strong. I am finding that in my own life. In the 1990s when I had my own business and more or less controlled my schedule, my spiritual listening muscles were strong. I regularly received very clear and precise guidance from whatever it is out there that I call God. I was quite comfortable with totally changing course on a speech right in the middle of it, calling someone I didn't know for a conversation, and even moving across the nation to a place where I knew no one and didn't have work. Things always worked out.
As those of you who follow this blog know, I am in a 4-1/2 month stint in a different job, raising money for 20,000 charities in an annual giving campaign. I love being of service. I am one of a group of loaned executives working with groups of managers with whom we brainstorm, track progress, share ideas, and even cheer-lead as they run their individual campaigns. I love it. I truly feel like I am serving--I am serving the agency campaign managers, and I am serving the charities who will do service with the money we raise.
The more normal work schedule I now have allows me to do some other things as well. I have done some things at my church on week nights, and last week I volunteered at a theater, which I used to serve. But I need to give more of myself. My listening muscles have grown flabby from lack of use, or maybe I stopped getting messages because I was so regularly finding myself needing to ignore them. (Neither my boss nor my clients would have taken well to me not showing up for an event I was leading because I'd been called to write that day.) I truly don't know if I stopped getting them because I didn't follow, or if I got so good at ignoring them that I no longer hear them.
This morning in church I noticed a line in our "prayers for the people" that I have missed before. I truly don't remember it, but I think I was listening differently this morning, "Free us from lack of vision, and from inertia of will and spirit." Ouch! I am not sure, but I think "inertia of will and spirit" may be the result of flabby listening muscles. It took me a few weeks to physically recover myself from the long hours of my regular job. I am now entering a stage of spiritual recovery in which I intend to recover my listening muscles.
Winston Churchill once said, "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give." Whether I follow Pope Francis's encouragement to "Live authentically in a concrete commitment to our neighbor" or this week's scriptural encouragement to be of service to God, which in the end is likely to be the same, I think it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I step into a space where I am focused on giving instead surviving.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Engaged
Jose Carlos was the evening desk clerk at the small hotel where I stayed in Madrid. Late one evening I went down to ask him for some directions that I needed for the next day. He was so gleefully into whatever he was working on that I just stood and watched for a few minutes. Now I want to clarify that this wasn't the situation which I've often encountered where someone is on their email or having a person conversation. Jose Carlos was doing work. I think he was working on something so unglamorous as charges for those checking out the next day.
Finally, I said something, and it was immediately apparent that he had no awareness that I had been standing there. As soon as he saw me, he shifted his focus completely to me and my question. Whatever he had been consumed by was instantly a million miles away, and there was nothing in his attention except me and my need for directions.
Over the few days that I was stayed in the hotel I witnessed Jose Carlos being completely engaged in what he was doing a number of times. Sometimes it was helping other guests. On a couple of occasions he was helping me. But, always he was completely engaged in whatever he was doing. In an era of multi-tasking, he was a sight to behold.
Since taking the psychology of happiness class this summer and being reminded of the "flow" state, I've increasingly been aware of how rarely I am fully engaged in activities. I am doing a Spanish class on my iPhone while making dinner. I am talking on the phone while checking email. I am taking calls and responding to emails and people stopping by my office while attempting to design a session. As research on multi-tasking has been proving, when we multi-task, we don't do anything well. I know that I don't do my best at anything when I am multi-tasking.
When I think about times when I was really into designing a session or writing a book, nothing else crept into my mind. I was totally focused and extraordinarily creative. Work flowed through me. Time stopped. At the end of the day, often I felt more energized than I had at the beginning. And, it has been a long time since I worked like that.
For four months I am working out of a different office and doing a different job. It is a job I've done before, but a long time ago and in a different setting. I do have to pay attention to new particulars to the job, but it is still familiar enough that I can do a lot on autopilot. What I've noticed in my first nine days on this job is similar to what I wrote about on September 29 in "The Accelerator is Stuck." I've been in a situation that has required multi-tasking for so long that I've forgotten how to focus.
My friend Amy who is a frequent contributor the this blog recently was guest on the "Transformation Cafe" radio program. She spoke of finding God in the messiness of our lives. I've known for decades that is where the real spiritual learning and growth occurs. If, as spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said, "being present" is our most important spiritual lesson, then the ability to be fully engaged in what we are doing at any given moment is an essential aspect of that lesson.
Like taking my foot off the gas pedal of my life, being engaged might actually be more of an exercise in learning to say "no" to things that are less important so that I can focus on what I consciously choose to be really important in any moment.
A little bit ago, I received a phone call from someone while I was working on this blog post. I really didn't want to talk on the phone. In looking back I was so disinterested in the conversation that I am certain that message came across. I might even have been perceived as rude. What I really wanted was to write. I've missed it, and I actually had a 30-45 minutes in which I could write, and I'd been interrupted. But, the truth is that I didn't have to answer the phone. I could have stayed focused on the writing.
That was when it occurred to me how important it is to say "no". Just because my phone rings doesn't mean that I have to pick up. I can say "no" to it, let it roll to my voice mail, and return the call later when I could be fully engaged in the phone conversation.
I recently took samurai training. We learned to live by a set of values, and the lines aren't always clear. How to I choose between loyalty and compassion or commitment and compassion. I need to say "yes" to both. How do I do that? At the end of the day of training, I wrote that to make this work I need to stay centered and stay present. I need to be fully aware of what I am choosing and as importantly to what things I choose to say "no."
Jose Carlos was such a wonderful example of being engaged and choosing to be fully present to whatever has his attention. I can imagine remembering his model as I choose to find God in the messiness of everyday life. If I don't, God could be talking directly to me, and I might just miss it.
Finally, I said something, and it was immediately apparent that he had no awareness that I had been standing there. As soon as he saw me, he shifted his focus completely to me and my question. Whatever he had been consumed by was instantly a million miles away, and there was nothing in his attention except me and my need for directions.
Over the few days that I was stayed in the hotel I witnessed Jose Carlos being completely engaged in what he was doing a number of times. Sometimes it was helping other guests. On a couple of occasions he was helping me. But, always he was completely engaged in whatever he was doing. In an era of multi-tasking, he was a sight to behold.
Since taking the psychology of happiness class this summer and being reminded of the "flow" state, I've increasingly been aware of how rarely I am fully engaged in activities. I am doing a Spanish class on my iPhone while making dinner. I am talking on the phone while checking email. I am taking calls and responding to emails and people stopping by my office while attempting to design a session. As research on multi-tasking has been proving, when we multi-task, we don't do anything well. I know that I don't do my best at anything when I am multi-tasking.
When I think about times when I was really into designing a session or writing a book, nothing else crept into my mind. I was totally focused and extraordinarily creative. Work flowed through me. Time stopped. At the end of the day, often I felt more energized than I had at the beginning. And, it has been a long time since I worked like that.
For four months I am working out of a different office and doing a different job. It is a job I've done before, but a long time ago and in a different setting. I do have to pay attention to new particulars to the job, but it is still familiar enough that I can do a lot on autopilot. What I've noticed in my first nine days on this job is similar to what I wrote about on September 29 in "The Accelerator is Stuck." I've been in a situation that has required multi-tasking for so long that I've forgotten how to focus.
My friend Amy who is a frequent contributor the this blog recently was guest on the "Transformation Cafe" radio program. She spoke of finding God in the messiness of our lives. I've known for decades that is where the real spiritual learning and growth occurs. If, as spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss has said, "being present" is our most important spiritual lesson, then the ability to be fully engaged in what we are doing at any given moment is an essential aspect of that lesson.
Like taking my foot off the gas pedal of my life, being engaged might actually be more of an exercise in learning to say "no" to things that are less important so that I can focus on what I consciously choose to be really important in any moment.
A little bit ago, I received a phone call from someone while I was working on this blog post. I really didn't want to talk on the phone. In looking back I was so disinterested in the conversation that I am certain that message came across. I might even have been perceived as rude. What I really wanted was to write. I've missed it, and I actually had a 30-45 minutes in which I could write, and I'd been interrupted. But, the truth is that I didn't have to answer the phone. I could have stayed focused on the writing.
That was when it occurred to me how important it is to say "no". Just because my phone rings doesn't mean that I have to pick up. I can say "no" to it, let it roll to my voice mail, and return the call later when I could be fully engaged in the phone conversation.
I recently took samurai training. We learned to live by a set of values, and the lines aren't always clear. How to I choose between loyalty and compassion or commitment and compassion. I need to say "yes" to both. How do I do that? At the end of the day of training, I wrote that to make this work I need to stay centered and stay present. I need to be fully aware of what I am choosing and as importantly to what things I choose to say "no."
Jose Carlos was such a wonderful example of being engaged and choosing to be fully present to whatever has his attention. I can imagine remembering his model as I choose to find God in the messiness of everyday life. If I don't, God could be talking directly to me, and I might just miss it.
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