Making Meaning

I finished Cameron Diaz's Longevity Book a few weeks ago.  It is a fascinating study of all of the human systems and how we age--not necessarily getting old; it describes how our bodies age, pretty much from birth.  As the book is drawing to a close, Diaz relates that when she turned 40, she was interested in understanding what it meant physically to pass this milestone.

This natural curiosity propelled her into an intriguing scientific investigation, which she generously shares with readers.  She continues to say that in this process, she came to understand that it was her job to create meaning in her life, which she did in researching and writing the book.  Then, she challenges the reader to create meaning in their own lives.

I've heard this message countless times. I've even written it a few dozen times...or more.  But this time, as I read her words, they took me in a different direction.  As someone who had little formal education in science until a few years ago, Diaz followed her natural curiosity like a string she was following to see where it led.  The reader can feel her excitement throughout the book.  There is a breathless quality to it.

I recall that over 20 years ago now when I was in one of many edits for Leading from the Heart, one of the leaders I'd asked to read the manuscript criticized it saying that there was a breathless quality to it, just like I was discovering something new.  While there was nothing I wrote that was new to me, following my own inspiration was an exciting journey.  I recall going many hours without food, water, or other biological relief because I was so excited about what was unfolding on the computer screen in front of me.

Last week I began briefings at the conclusion of a five-month organization assessment.  This one was particularly intriguing because of the interrelatedness and complexity of the organizational dynamics.  I said more than once over the last month as I was pulling my data together that it was like pulling apart a knotted ball of yarn.

Reading Diaz's charge, I realized that, while I enjoy making change in organizations, what really flips my switches is figuring out the puzzle and developing a hypothesis about what will address the challenges that people in that situation face.  I love getting things started.  Grinding it out over several years, not so much.

That is important to me, especially as I move to a new job.  As I define who I am in my profession, I will do so more intentionally with what brings meaning to me as the focus of my work.  I've used the "What brings life to me, what brings me to life" guideline in this blog before.  Too much of what I've done in recent years has sucked the life right out of me...and I let it.

Over the years, I've coached a number of people who were bent upon discovering what their life's purpose is, and I've always encouraged them to think about purpose as more of a process than a destination.  If we think of purpose as an endpoint, we have no room to grow as the world changes and as we grow and develop.  If, by contrast, we think about making meaning in this moment, we are able to continue to evolve for the rest of our lives.

As I think about Diaz's book which gracefully describes what happens in every one of our physical systems, I see great parallel.  Our cells don't leap frog from birth to death in an instant, they go through many stages of life.  Similarly, our respiration, our hearts, and other systems are vastly different as a newborn, a toddler, a teen, a young adult and a senior citizen.

Our purpose should evolve similarly.  Tomorrow, I start my last week in a job that has borne frustrations and accomplishments.  I will be very mindful about how my spiritual development is transition as I end this job and move next week to another.

Contemplation

A story bubbled up several times in my meditation today that I remember hearing years ago.  A baby chick was struggling to break free of  the egg shell in which it had been gestating.  Tap! Tap! Tap! Its little beak hit the inside of the encasement. Tap! Tap! Tap! Finally, a tiny crack appeared.  For hours this process continued, and at last the tiniest of holes appeared, and the beak could be seen as it worked to broaden the opening.

A well-meaning human observer thought he would help the chick so he broke the shell open to liberate the baby bird.  Very shortly after breaking the shell open, the baby bird died.  Apparently, process of fighting its way out of the shell develops the bird's lungs sufficiently that it will be able to sustain respiration when it finally emerges from the shell.  By breaking the encasement open for the chick, the human helper robbed the baby bird of the work which would allow it to live.

During an interview a few months ago on Oprah's "Super Soul Sunday," author and philosopher Sister Joan Chittister described "contemplation" as "seeing the world as God sees it."  I am in a period of transition, and sometimes it has felt to me like I am that baby bird, attempting to break free of the shell, or in my case the box, in which I've been trapped.

As the story of the bird breaking free drifted into my awareness today, I thought that God must be watching me struggle to break free, all the while knowing that the strength I gain in the struggle will be what enables me to thrive in whatever comes next.

An Eastern adage, from the I Ching if I remember correctly, advises that when the student is ready, the teacher will appear.  My own experience is that when a student is ready, many teachers agree. Everywhere I turn a lesson will be repeated for me until I "get it."

I am certain that it was not a coincidence that I ran into someone yesterday, who is a reader of this blog. As she walked toward me, she said, "No blog posts!"  I gave the feeble excuse about my job consuming me that has become old and pathetic even to me.

Then I shared that I had given notice that no later than the end of the summer I was leaving the job with which I've struggled.  I don't remember her exact words, but it was something like, "We've all been watching you struggle and wondering why you don't just get out of there."  Once again I could imagine myself like that bird, struggling to break free.

As I contemplated the image of the bird struggling to develop its lungs so that it can sustain respiration outside the egg shell, I was able to see my life in three distinct phases.  In two, I struggled significantly.  In the third, between the periods of struggle, my life flowed like a daily miracle.

I thought about God watching me and wondered what had flipped the switches from struggle to flow and back to struggle again.  Yet I saw no sign posts that pointed and said definitively, "This is what changed it," in either direction.  However, from the perspective of looking at myself in those three distinct phases, I was struck that during the struggling phases I excelled as using skills I'd developed at doing work I didn't particularly like, but because it was valued by my employers and/or clients, I performed the work for money. It was usually important work that helped people, but it wasn't my work.

In the miracle phase, from early morning until I often fell into bed exhausted from a vigorous evening of dancing, life flowed from my natural gifts and talents.  I embraced every moment of life passionately. Again, I performed important work that helped people, but in the miracle phase, it was my work.

While the most popular coach training and certification, both of which I have, requires that coaches work with their clients to set specific, measurable, achievable goals, during the period of my life which flowed easily I allowed my life to be led by intentions, instead of goals.  Deep inner knowing guided me on mysterious journeys, which I could not have imagined from my wildest goal-setting mind.

One measure about which I have written in this blog previously is the intention to follow "life."  To ask myself, "Does this bring me to life? Does it bring life to me?" If it "flips my switches," then it is almost certainly a path I should follow, and if it doesn't, that also is good data--information that I should walk away from that opportunity.

What I believe to be life's intentions were detailed in my book The Game Called Life. These are intentions that I say are written on the back sides of our hearts and were designed to be our internal compasses:

1. Lessons Learned--Will this help me learn a lesson that my soul needs to learn in this life? Or is it a lesson the world needs me and others to learn at this time to evolve humanity?

2.  Develop skills and talents--Am I using the unique skills, talents and gifts that I was given for this journey to help me serve the world?

3.  Do work put in front of you—What is the purpose for what you are doing at this moment? How will what you are doing serve to make the world a better place?

When my life was flowing, I didn't live by a goal to be a certain level in the company, revenue level in my business, or make a certain amount of money.  I lived by the intentions from The Game that brought me to life. In my current struggled, I've focused too much on being of service (and I am certain that I have been of service,) to the neglect of the lessons I needed to learn and using my real gifts and talents.

In this moment of contemplation, I believe that I finally can see Kay as God sees her.  After years of watching my struggle, this morning I am certain that God displays a broad grin, knowing that I have finally developed the strength to sustain me when I break out of my shell. What allows me to thrive is truly being who I know I am in my heart.