This Could Be Fun

Yesterday afternoon I conducted two research projects for my health coaching class.  Either of them could have been completed in under an hour, but I luxuriated over them for six or seven.  I love to learn!  I just kept jumping from website to website, learning more and more about each of the topics, including one about the heart health of the District of Columbia.  It was something I would never have thought of.  "Golly, gee, I think I'll spend an afternoon that I almost never have free researching the heart health of my city," is something that has never crossed my mind.  AND, it was fascinating.

When I finally looked up, a bit bleary-eyed and starved, I sank back into my chair and laughed out loud.  This was so much fun.  Then it occurred to me that learning has been pretty much under the gun for most of my life.  With so much to complete before the end of the term, I always felt like I was behind from the first day of class in college and graduate school.  When I have taken classes while I was working, the being-behind-as-I-started feeling was notched up a bit, compounded by the hope that I might have five minutes for myself before the class ended.

For the first time, I can really enjoy learning as a quest where the knowledge is a reward in itself. Suddenly, my mind shifted from what I had to do before the class met at noon on Wednesday to what I would like to add to the studies.  I identified books on the shelf of books purchased but not yet read which I wanted to get into.  I also learned that Dr. Andrew Weil has a new healthy eating cookbook, and my experience with his recipes in the past is that they are great. That reminded me that when I started this program, I wanted to have delicious healthy food be an objective. But, I have hardly cooked anything that wasn't required from this class, and, for a foodie, I've found the recipes depressing.

If I haven't finished this research by the end of the class, so what?  I can take all the time I want on this part of my exploration.

In the roughly 28 hours since my discover that I could have fun learning, more and more things have occurred to me that I could have allow to be fun.  I used to relish getting home to run and really enjoyed lifting weights three times a week. In the pressure cooker that has been my life, the things I've loved have been sandwiched into progressively smaller morsels of time. I've felt as if checking something I chose off my list to prove that I would not give up thing I loved was more important than savoring the time I've spent doing them.

I've written a lot in this blog about being present to our lives, and it is a struggle for me.  I think I am turning a corner...far from there, but I always like to say that awareness is 90 percent of the battle. Each time I identify an impediment to being present, I can focus my intention on what I'd like my life to be life.  I can take as much...or as little...time as I want, but if I am going to do something, I am going to throw myself in it completely.

Today I needed to walk to the bank for cash.  This afternoon was lovely in Washington--sunny, bluebird skies, and 60 degrees.  I am a brisk walker, but I really enjoyed the sun on my cheeks and my mobility.  I noticed that a foot, which has been bothering me, was better.  I decided to continue on to the Whole Foods to pick up a few things that I needed.  I enjoyed stopping and pondering some personal philosophy on a lawn sign.  I just enjoyed the beautiful city in which I live.  I was shocked when I got to the store to learn that I'd only walked 10 minutes from the bank, but I'd allowed myself to drop in a time warp where time didn't exist.  I enjoyed myself.

I really want to be of service, but I don't need to make that be hard labor.  In the end, enjoying my life and my service is the point.  As has been said, this isn't a dress rehearsal, so why not have fun with it?

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.

Trusting What I Know

At sometime or another, most of us have had a deep knowing about something--something we knew or something we should do--that was counter-rational.  Everything was telling us that logically what we know in our hearts is wrong, but in our guts, we know we are right.  Most times, if not all the time, days, weeks, or months later, what we knew is proven correct.

This weekend I had the occasion to talk with two people I haven't seen for a while, and each asked me about my work.  I told them about how I love my clients, and I do.  I told them how some of my projects are really interesting, and they are.  Then, I told them how I had to stay in my current employment for another year for financial reasons that are too complicated too attempt to explain here.

In my heart, I know I should go, but every bit of rationality tells me that I must wait a year.  So, I wait...in pain for time to pass that is like watching ice melt in winter.  In my heart, I know that I should leap, even if I don't know what I am leaping to.  In my heart, I know I am dying where I am.  What has me frozen in place?

After the dot.com bust, when I lost my business and everything with it, I yearned for a secure job, and that is what I have now. Finances were a major piece of that picture, but for me, just as important was the fact that I no longer felt I was making a contribution.  I had spent my whole career helping people in workplaces, and suddenly, I didn't have that opportunity.  Being of service in my work is a major motivator for me, and I had no one to serve.

Although as a young person, I had always wanted to be a teacher, when I started teaching university students how to be better future managers and leaders, I knew it wasn't a fit. Oh, it was probably more of a fit than teaching history or political science, which is what I thought I wanted to do when I first went to college, but I'd done work I loved and knew this just was exactly right for me. I'd spent my career working directly with managers and leaders with their current challenges.  I just never quite got as excited about teaching these same topics.  Yet, I was serving, and that motivated me.  Creating a different kind of class that students were excited about...that motivated me.

I've wrestled with this question for several months now:  why am I afraid to leap?  The quick and easy answer is always financial.  But, today, suddenly it occurred to me: what if I didn't find a way to serve? I believe that is more terrifying than being down to my last $300.  Now I will go to work tomorrow and each day, not for the financial benefit, but because I have the opportunity to work with a lot of fine people who let me serve them...and even appreciate my service. That is what keeps me where I am, and that I truly know in my heart.

Risking Greatness

In my book The Game Called Life, spiritual guide/guardian angel Helen explains to Lizzie, the person she is helping, the steps to "living a prayer in the real world."  The "real" world is the spiritual world, as opposed to the "fictional" world, which is the one in which most of us think we exist.  Step Six is "risk greatness." 

She says: "I am not speaking of greatness in fictional world terms where people reach a high level in their worldly work or make a lot of money. Greatness in the real world means speeding the evolution of humankind." Later she explains why "greatness" is a risk.

"Greatness itself isn't the risk.  The risk lies in the willingness to consistently answer a call that usually cannot be understood.  The path to greatness requires players to do things that they may never have been done before or at least to do them in unconventional ways."

In recent days there seems to be a magic that as soon as I publish one blogpost, a related idea pops into my head which builds on that post.  After yesterday's post on vulnerability, I realized that what I'd really been writing about was risking greatness.  Am I willing to be personally vulnerable in order to evolve humankind? 

I've crossed that bridge before.  Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear were not exactly conventional business books. I knew at the time I wrote them that I was exposing myself to criticism from traditional management audiences, as well as more conventionally religious readers. I couldn't prove what I was about to write.  I had no data (and still don't) that leading and working from our spiritual cores and making the increase of love be our motivation would help organizations, but I'd seen it. I knew what I knew.  I could evolve the way we work.  So, I wrote, and many people read.  Both books received some official recognition, but in serving the spirit world, I did marginalize myself for a long time in the management consulting world.  It was as if that community thought that my left brain evaporated, as I wrote what the right brain told me.

Then came The Game Called Life which explained "how the world worked" in a somewhat unconventional way. Life is a game, but most of us just don't know the rules. The Game and Choice Point, which hasn't seen the light of day beyond a small circle of friends who have been deeply moved by it, not only flew in the face of many conventional religious beliefs but also are contrary to many popular "New Age" teachings. I couldn't prove it, but I knew what I knew, so I wrote. 

I've stood in front of audiences and shared deeply personal parts of myself because I thought that doing so would help others sustain their own spiritual journeys. 

Although I am not sure that anyone would say that I achieved greatness in the normal world (what Helen would call the "fictional" world) context, I still hear from people who were empowered for their own journeys by the words that have moved through me.  While it was a risk to take on these major constituencies, my spiritual center told me that it was my work to do.

Have I been vulnerable? Of course.  Would I do one thing differently? Never.  If vulnerability is how we find God then each of those writing experiences have been other worldly.  I have surrendered to the words that wanted to move through me.  I have learned for the first time as I read what was on the screen in front of me. To surrender so completely is by definition risking and vulnerable.  And, only twice have I felt closer to God than when I am writing.

I stand at the precipice of vulnerability, ready to jump,...again.  I am ready to risk greatness in the hope that I can have the teensiest role in evolving human kind.

Hurry and Happiness

The day of the year when I feel almost as happy about working hard around the house as I do the day I decorate for Christmas is the day I undecorated for Christmas.  Tree out, wreath and poinsettias gone, furniture back where it belongs: with a deep sigh of relief, things have fallen back to "normal," whatever that is.

I am an NPR junkie, and I find the programs of my local station intellectually stimulating while doing mindless tasks around my apartment, like cleaning and removing ornaments and lights.  Today I heard an interesting piece* about happiness and its relationship to usage of time, which started me thinking all afternoon and evening. 

Two elements of the research of Dr. John Robinson, University of Maryland sociology professor, tell the story.  First, those who are less rushed feel happier, and second, those who have less free time on their hands express happiness more often.  The magic happiness cocktail: a combination of not being rushed and having little free time.  Not rushed, but having little free time? This seems like a contradiction.  I thought if I had less free time, I would feel more rushed.  Yet, Robinson's research shows that people who are very happy almost never feel rushed.  The reason that they have less free time, he has found, is that they have a lot of interests which they remain engaged in, and which, apparently, bring them happiness.

A related piece of research mentioned in the program, Dr. Erik Angner, economics professor at George Mason University, reports that the more television people watch, the less happy they are.  The leap is that they aren't engaged in interests that bring them pleasure, so they have a lot of free time to watch television. 

I have a colleague who seems very happy.  She has two small children, but she is still is engaged in community, church, and family activities. I've often wondered how she does all she does, but, despite all that she has happening in her life, she never seems to be rushed. I'd say her life supports Robinson's research. 

Some topics just keep coming around.  The first is about being present.  It seems to me that when I am really present, I am not rushed. I am not thinking about what is next or what isn't being done; I am able to enjoy what I am doing because I am present to it in the moment.  As someone who often does  feel rushed, I can say that it relaxes me to just think about being really engaged and present to a number of pleasurable activities.  I actually could have been as mindful about undecorating my house--really been present--as I was decorating it, and I'll bet I would have felt a lot less tired at the end of the day.

The second is about choice. Robinson reports that those who are most rushed experience outside pressures beyond their control. He says that a sense of control in our lives is important to happiness. But who could have more balls in the air than my colleague, who seems never rushed?  I suspect that those who are happiest just choose to be present--they choose to let go of control in exchange for just enjoying--being in joy--with what they are doing.

Winston Churchill is credited (probably incorrectly) with the quote: "We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."  If we feel too rushed to give or even too rushed to be present, then, it would seem to me, that we are really choosing not to be happy, although most of us would probably not make that choice if we were conscious of what we are doing.

Robinson sums up his research with a play on words from the Bobby McFerrin hit of a couple decades ago: "Don't hurry, be happy."  Now that's a choice.  Why would I want to hurry if I could be happy?  That's a no-brainer.  I think that may be a good fourth intention for my year...or maybe the intention should be: "Be present for this year."  I think it is the same.








http://wamu.org/programs/metro_connection/13/05/24/dont_hurry_be_happy_research_highlights_link_between_busy_lives_and_bliss#at_pco=cfd-1.0