"Discovering the Truth about Ourselves" was jotted on a pad beside my computer. I use it to capture ideas I have while in the bath or cooking or in the middle of the night when I don't really have time to blog, but I don't really want to lose the thought. Most of the time when I sit to write the ideas just flow. Today, I sat and looked at this one for a while. I actually have some current thoughts about the topic, but for the life of me, I just can't remember what my original intention had been. Maybe it will come.
I've been in a personal growth training this week. Yesterday was very slow. Today we got the results of two different assessments. One of them was a 360. If you aren't familiar with a 360, feedback is solicited from people all around me: my boss, my peers, a customer, and a coach that I have mentored. The customer didn't get his input submitted in time for the report I received today, but the others did.
People, who I have coached, that have had a 360 assessment often discover they've had blind spots. Feedback is often painful, so I thought I had steeled myself for the worst. I was wrong. Some of the items didn't surprise me. I don't take time to socialize because I work 11- and 12-hour days and almost never even have time for lunch. I totally own that I make the decision that it is more important for me to leave after 12 hours than to chat and leave after 12 and a half.
I also got feedback that I don't mentor. Same reasons apply, plus my field requires a graduate degree so it is not very practical to mentor someone without a bachelor's degree to do organizational development. I had mentored the afore-mentioned coach for 10 hours and spent several more hours listening to his recorded sessions, but I don't talk about it. Except for the person I coached, probably none of the others knew. I am not sure what to do about that, but I can't see that I am going to publish (except anonymously in this post) that I am mentoring someone. That is between me and the person with whom I am working.
What was really painful though was feedback that I received that I don't care about people. I am not sure what kind of armor I've been stepping into lately that people have been seeing, but I bleed when people are hurting. I lose sleep over a sleight.
Actually, that's not quite true. I have given this reflection over the last few hours. I do know what kind of armor I've been stepping into: it is the armor that gets me through those long days. I just put my nose down and stay focused. No one looking at me would know that my heart is aching at the end of a day of listening to people in pain from their workplace. That is what I carry home with me. It is the truth about me, and discovering it wasn't fun. Yet, as I said a few days ago ("Growth Spurt," 9/6,) I am ready to grow. I can't do anything about this perception if I don't know about it.
The executive, who launched our program Monday morning, said something that really stuck a chord with me and has given me an important lesson. She said that just before her first child was born, she worked late. She put together packages of urgent projects with post-it notes containing instructions. When she returned five months later, two of the urgent projects were just where she left them. She said that she learned right then that no matter how important a project seemed to be, most of the time, it can wait.
A few days ago I wrote that on the first of September I was no longer going to work the killer hours.("Boundary Issues," 9/4) The executive's words simply reinforced that decision. The 360 feedback reinforced it even more. It is time for me to take time to let the people around me know the person inside the armor and not the one they've been seeing and experiencing over the last year.
Even though the feedback was painful, it has served as a painful reminder that if I forget who I am, no one else has a chance to see me.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Sunday, September 7, 2014
My Prayers Praying Me
When I was growing up, I was taught that prayer was about talking to God: impassioned pleas, begging, bartering, asking for guidance from God by only offering two options, or the metaphorical equivalent of parting the waters for us to get the date we wanted for prom. Clearly, it was about asking God to help us get what we wanted. I once heard something (Marianne Williamson?) refer to this kind of prayer as "the carhop in the sky." We tell God what we want, and he/she is supposed to bring it to us.
I have come to believe a few different things about prayer. First, it is at least as much about listening as talking...maybe much more. Second, when we ask for guidance, we should do so with open-ended questions so that we really give God room to point us in the right direction, and when we ask for help, we should listen very carefully. The answers often float in as if on the wings of a butterfly and always without explanation. Reasoning with Go about why is pure foolishness. The answer is the answer.
Third, everything is a gift; no matter how much we don't like or understand the answers when they show up in our lives, if we are open-minded, we will eventually see that they are a gift.
Finally, God will tell us what to pray, if we will still our minds and listen.
All of these weave together to produce a very different kind of prayer than what I grew up with. When I started to pray this way, the term that came to me for it was "my prayers praying me." How this works is that I allow myself to become very still. Then I express the intention to prayer. Since everything is a gift, I begin by expressing gratitude, but not for stuff in my life. When I say that God will tell us what to pray, I mean that things will become apparent for which I should thank God.
I don't know if it works exactly the same way for everyone. Most of the time, I hear what to be grateful for, but occasionally I may see a picture which reminds me of something to be grateful for. In a recent prayer, I started noticing the buzz of the cicadas in the park behind me. That reminded me to thank God for having an apartment in a large city that overlooked a national park. It also reminded me of my home, having a home, and being able to afford my home, all things that I've learned to not take for granted. I was grateful that I had friends who opened their doors for me and that I was never on the streets during my season of homelessness. Then I remembered how wonderful it was to have a trailhead into the park just feet outside my backdoor.
After I'd taken time to be very grateful for my apartment and a number of other positives in my life, I started to thank God for things for which others may not take time to express gratitude. I thanked God for my pain because there was a time when I might have become a quadriplegic and couldn't have felt pain. Then I was grateful that I could wiggle my fingers and toes.
I thanked God for my difficult bosses because I was grateful to have bosses and all the things that went with them--a regular paycheck, benefits, and even paid time off. I even thanked God for my less-than-wonderful eyesight because before my February surgery, I understood I might lose the sight in one eye. You get the idea.
I wasn't running a stop watch, but my guess is that I was grateful for at least 20 minutes. Most of what I was thankful for weren't things that normally would have been on my Top 10 of gratitude. Instead, they were really very meaningful things for me to remember. When I am thankful for pain, bad eyesight, and even not being on the streets, when I get curve balls in my life, they remind me to look for the gift.
Then, it was time to ask. Once again, I asked: what should I pray for? There it was, just like in the wings of a butterfly, "Heal me." There was a knowing acknowledgement in my throat as my head involuntarily shook to the affirmative. "Heal me," I said.
Then, there was stillness again. No drama. No begging. No choices. Just "heal me." The roots of the word "heal" are "to make whole." Gratitude, and a request to be made whole. When my prayers pray me, they are simple and distilled. What more could I ask for?
I have come to believe a few different things about prayer. First, it is at least as much about listening as talking...maybe much more. Second, when we ask for guidance, we should do so with open-ended questions so that we really give God room to point us in the right direction, and when we ask for help, we should listen very carefully. The answers often float in as if on the wings of a butterfly and always without explanation. Reasoning with Go about why is pure foolishness. The answer is the answer.
Third, everything is a gift; no matter how much we don't like or understand the answers when they show up in our lives, if we are open-minded, we will eventually see that they are a gift.
Finally, God will tell us what to pray, if we will still our minds and listen.
All of these weave together to produce a very different kind of prayer than what I grew up with. When I started to pray this way, the term that came to me for it was "my prayers praying me." How this works is that I allow myself to become very still. Then I express the intention to prayer. Since everything is a gift, I begin by expressing gratitude, but not for stuff in my life. When I say that God will tell us what to pray, I mean that things will become apparent for which I should thank God.
I don't know if it works exactly the same way for everyone. Most of the time, I hear what to be grateful for, but occasionally I may see a picture which reminds me of something to be grateful for. In a recent prayer, I started noticing the buzz of the cicadas in the park behind me. That reminded me to thank God for having an apartment in a large city that overlooked a national park. It also reminded me of my home, having a home, and being able to afford my home, all things that I've learned to not take for granted. I was grateful that I had friends who opened their doors for me and that I was never on the streets during my season of homelessness. Then I remembered how wonderful it was to have a trailhead into the park just feet outside my backdoor.
After I'd taken time to be very grateful for my apartment and a number of other positives in my life, I started to thank God for things for which others may not take time to express gratitude. I thanked God for my pain because there was a time when I might have become a quadriplegic and couldn't have felt pain. Then I was grateful that I could wiggle my fingers and toes.
I thanked God for my difficult bosses because I was grateful to have bosses and all the things that went with them--a regular paycheck, benefits, and even paid time off. I even thanked God for my less-than-wonderful eyesight because before my February surgery, I understood I might lose the sight in one eye. You get the idea.
I wasn't running a stop watch, but my guess is that I was grateful for at least 20 minutes. Most of what I was thankful for weren't things that normally would have been on my Top 10 of gratitude. Instead, they were really very meaningful things for me to remember. When I am thankful for pain, bad eyesight, and even not being on the streets, when I get curve balls in my life, they remind me to look for the gift.
Then, it was time to ask. Once again, I asked: what should I pray for? There it was, just like in the wings of a butterfly, "Heal me." There was a knowing acknowledgement in my throat as my head involuntarily shook to the affirmative. "Heal me," I said.
Then, there was stillness again. No drama. No begging. No choices. Just "heal me." The roots of the word "heal" are "to make whole." Gratitude, and a request to be made whole. When my prayers pray me, they are simple and distilled. What more could I ask for?
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Growth Spurt
They tell me that many kids go through growth spurts and shoot up a few inches in just two or three months. Actually, I remember seeing that in one of my nephews over a summer. Me? I was the tallest kid in my class until fifth grade; then I stopped growing...completely. At least physically, that it. In adulthood, I am the size of a tall fifth grade, which is to say a pretty short grown up.
We grow in different ways, though, and in some ways I've never stopped growing. I like to believe that emotionally and spiritually I continue to grow. There have been years when it felt like I'd have a major Aha! moment at least every week. I've been in a growth dry spell for a while. You might say I've been stuck.
For several months, I've been feeling like something was coming. On November 2 last year, I wrote about "feeling pregnant," about to give birth to something. I've kept feeling that something positive was about to come my way over the months. Waiting...waiting...but nothing yet.
Over the last two weeks I've started into a growth spurt. (I'd love to be taller, but I think I will have to be happy with spiritual growth.) As I've stepped out in new ways, the Universe has been very affirming. I got into the class I'd been on a waiting list for, and it ends up that it is going to approach leadership from the perspective of personal growth, something I wrote about in Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear.
As I've done pre-work assessments, I've realized how I've shrunk personally over the five years I've been in my current job; I've significantly lost confidence in myself. Dumbing down on a daily basis has really undermined not only my potential, but also how I show up each day. As I've written over the last few days, discovering that I don't advocate for myself and that I have boundary issues has been a major breakthrough as well. A continuing education class for certified coaches also helped me rediscover aspects that I'd forgotten were part of me.
I've climbed out of the rut, and I am back in the growth groove. YEAH!!!!!!!!!
Tomorrow I am taking an all-day class that I also expect to be revealing, and then the next five days, I'll be in the personal growth class. I am not only in a new groove, but odds are on that I am about to go from zero to sixty very quickly.
I love to grow. I love to discover new things about myself. For a long time, I've thought that our personal growth follows the cycle of nature. In the fall seeds of who we might become drop, rest in the soil, and in spring they sprout. By this time of the year, it is harvest, and we are ready to drop seeds for another cycle of growth.
I usually recognize the beginning of the cycle around the Jewish New Year, which is coming in about three weeks. Although I am not Jewish, over those holidays I usually take a few days to sit and reflect about the year past, what seeds have sprouted and matured, and what seeds I want to plant for the year ahead.
It was at that time last year, that I committed to writing more, and I have written regularly in this blog since that time. I have also written several chapters of my memoir, and I am very, very close (I hope) to having The Game Called Life on Amazon. There were other things that I wanted to bring into my life--more of the work I used to love doing, including coaching, and a new job with better pay and more importantly, a more respectful work environment. Some of those things have happened, and seeds have been planted for others. I'd also knew I wanted a personal relationship.
The truth about some of those things which haven't happened yet is that I haven't been ready. In synch with the cycle of nature, I believe this growth spurt is what I've needed to get me ready. There's an expression: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." As nature has approached the harvest, this student has gotten more and more ready, and suddenly teachers have appeared from every direction.
The nature of spiritual growth spurts is that we can't really know from this side what things will look like on the other, but what we can be assured is that a whole new world of possibilities will await us.
What it will look like, I cannot know now, but I am confident that a rich harvest awaits everywhere in my life that I've planted seeds.
We grow in different ways, though, and in some ways I've never stopped growing. I like to believe that emotionally and spiritually I continue to grow. There have been years when it felt like I'd have a major Aha! moment at least every week. I've been in a growth dry spell for a while. You might say I've been stuck.
For several months, I've been feeling like something was coming. On November 2 last year, I wrote about "feeling pregnant," about to give birth to something. I've kept feeling that something positive was about to come my way over the months. Waiting...waiting...but nothing yet.
Over the last two weeks I've started into a growth spurt. (I'd love to be taller, but I think I will have to be happy with spiritual growth.) As I've stepped out in new ways, the Universe has been very affirming. I got into the class I'd been on a waiting list for, and it ends up that it is going to approach leadership from the perspective of personal growth, something I wrote about in Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear.
As I've done pre-work assessments, I've realized how I've shrunk personally over the five years I've been in my current job; I've significantly lost confidence in myself. Dumbing down on a daily basis has really undermined not only my potential, but also how I show up each day. As I've written over the last few days, discovering that I don't advocate for myself and that I have boundary issues has been a major breakthrough as well. A continuing education class for certified coaches also helped me rediscover aspects that I'd forgotten were part of me.
I've climbed out of the rut, and I am back in the growth groove. YEAH!!!!!!!!!
Tomorrow I am taking an all-day class that I also expect to be revealing, and then the next five days, I'll be in the personal growth class. I am not only in a new groove, but odds are on that I am about to go from zero to sixty very quickly.
I love to grow. I love to discover new things about myself. For a long time, I've thought that our personal growth follows the cycle of nature. In the fall seeds of who we might become drop, rest in the soil, and in spring they sprout. By this time of the year, it is harvest, and we are ready to drop seeds for another cycle of growth.
I usually recognize the beginning of the cycle around the Jewish New Year, which is coming in about three weeks. Although I am not Jewish, over those holidays I usually take a few days to sit and reflect about the year past, what seeds have sprouted and matured, and what seeds I want to plant for the year ahead.
It was at that time last year, that I committed to writing more, and I have written regularly in this blog since that time. I have also written several chapters of my memoir, and I am very, very close (I hope) to having The Game Called Life on Amazon. There were other things that I wanted to bring into my life--more of the work I used to love doing, including coaching, and a new job with better pay and more importantly, a more respectful work environment. Some of those things have happened, and seeds have been planted for others. I'd also knew I wanted a personal relationship.
The truth about some of those things which haven't happened yet is that I haven't been ready. In synch with the cycle of nature, I believe this growth spurt is what I've needed to get me ready. There's an expression: "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear." As nature has approached the harvest, this student has gotten more and more ready, and suddenly teachers have appeared from every direction.
The nature of spiritual growth spurts is that we can't really know from this side what things will look like on the other, but what we can be assured is that a whole new world of possibilities will await us.
What it will look like, I cannot know now, but I am confident that a rich harvest awaits everywhere in my life that I've planted seeds.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Celebrating Presence
In the middle of the chaos that is my work life, I just stopped the other day. I have no idea what made me do it, unless, of course, reducing my hours significantly allowed me to actually be conscious in my life. Actually, that is what stopped me. I suddenly realized that in the chaos, my mind couldn't drift anywhere. I had to be totally present.
As I thought about it, I smiled and a sense of peace washed over me. I have struggled to be present, and I have to admit that my mind does buzz more than a bit when I am not in the chaos. But, what a miracle to notice that the chaos actually forced me to be present.
I move through the day going from client meeting to client meeting and coaching sessions with a little instructional design and functionary work sandwiched in. I could not do my job if I couldn't totally let every little thing that was going on in my work just fall away so I could lend my total attention to the person/people in front of me in that moment.
While it seems a little thing, for me the realization was huge. I believe I've quoted spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss before, but please allow me to repeat. Myss has said our biggest spiritual challenge is to be present. At the end of many days, they just feel like a blur, but I now know that, moment by moment, I was actually almost totally present.
What is odd about this is that I've been thinking the chaos was what was keeping me from being present, and now I discover it is just the opposite: in order to do what I need to do, I must transcend everything else and focus on what is before me.
I feel like skipping, doing a happy dance, and screaming to the world, "I just discovered I can be present."
Now the question that I am sitting with is: "Was this the purpose for this chaos?" Did I need this craziness to learn how to let everything but what I am doing in that moment just drop away? And, now that I know how to do it, can I do it without the chaos? Those questions linger, but for now, I am celebrating this remarkable discovery.
As I thought about it, I smiled and a sense of peace washed over me. I have struggled to be present, and I have to admit that my mind does buzz more than a bit when I am not in the chaos. But, what a miracle to notice that the chaos actually forced me to be present.
I move through the day going from client meeting to client meeting and coaching sessions with a little instructional design and functionary work sandwiched in. I could not do my job if I couldn't totally let every little thing that was going on in my work just fall away so I could lend my total attention to the person/people in front of me in that moment.
While it seems a little thing, for me the realization was huge. I believe I've quoted spiritual teacher Carolyn Myss before, but please allow me to repeat. Myss has said our biggest spiritual challenge is to be present. At the end of many days, they just feel like a blur, but I now know that, moment by moment, I was actually almost totally present.
What is odd about this is that I've been thinking the chaos was what was keeping me from being present, and now I discover it is just the opposite: in order to do what I need to do, I must transcend everything else and focus on what is before me.
I feel like skipping, doing a happy dance, and screaming to the world, "I just discovered I can be present."
Now the question that I am sitting with is: "Was this the purpose for this chaos?" Did I need this craziness to learn how to let everything but what I am doing in that moment just drop away? And, now that I know how to do it, can I do it without the chaos? Those questions linger, but for now, I am celebrating this remarkable discovery.
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Boundary issues
In the realm of "Duhhh! Why did it take you so long to notice?" I have figured out I have boundary issues.
Wednesday a colleague briefed me on a personal assessment which indicated that I don't advocate for myself. That's a concept! Advocate for myself. It was totally right. I don't. I have to say that I was dumbstruck by the revelation though. Not that I would have argued that I do advocate for myself. It's just that advocating for myself has just never been on my radar.
As those of you who have been regular readers know, I've been working way too many hours all year, and I had drawn a line in the sand to stop in September. It was just "coincidence*" that the assessment was briefed for me on the morning of our second work day in September. As several hours passed, I became more and more aware of how many of the little irritants at work had been pushed on me simply because I let them be. Push back is just not something I've ever done. Now I get it.
Today was the third day in a row that I've only worked 9 to 9.5 hours. I am beginning to feel again. I took two dance classes tonight and actually have the physical energy and mental focus to fully participate. I had a lot of fun. I want more of this in my life.
At about 4 p.m. today, a schedule for a major project which will last most of the rest of the year was dumped on me. I was already at about 110% capacity through the second week of November. Tomorrow, I will push back. Technically, I've been breaking the law by working so many hours anyway, so I really can't see that there will be any negative consequences. If there are, can they really be any worse than a year of 12-hour days?
I finally got it: I have boundary issues. Self-awareness is really huge for me. Once I get something, I generally act decidedly on my intention to change. I know things are going to get a lot better now.
*In spirit speak, a coincidence is a coinciding event--two things that appear to be unrelated except by divine intervention--occur. I think that it is a coinciding event that on Monday I am going into a five-day class which promises to be rich in other self-awareness. Who knows? A week from now, I will probably have a whole new lease on life, and Lord knows, I could use it. Stay tuned!
Wednesday a colleague briefed me on a personal assessment which indicated that I don't advocate for myself. That's a concept! Advocate for myself. It was totally right. I don't. I have to say that I was dumbstruck by the revelation though. Not that I would have argued that I do advocate for myself. It's just that advocating for myself has just never been on my radar.
As those of you who have been regular readers know, I've been working way too many hours all year, and I had drawn a line in the sand to stop in September. It was just "coincidence*" that the assessment was briefed for me on the morning of our second work day in September. As several hours passed, I became more and more aware of how many of the little irritants at work had been pushed on me simply because I let them be. Push back is just not something I've ever done. Now I get it.
Today was the third day in a row that I've only worked 9 to 9.5 hours. I am beginning to feel again. I took two dance classes tonight and actually have the physical energy and mental focus to fully participate. I had a lot of fun. I want more of this in my life.
At about 4 p.m. today, a schedule for a major project which will last most of the rest of the year was dumped on me. I was already at about 110% capacity through the second week of November. Tomorrow, I will push back. Technically, I've been breaking the law by working so many hours anyway, so I really can't see that there will be any negative consequences. If there are, can they really be any worse than a year of 12-hour days?
I finally got it: I have boundary issues. Self-awareness is really huge for me. Once I get something, I generally act decidedly on my intention to change. I know things are going to get a lot better now.
*In spirit speak, a coincidence is a coinciding event--two things that appear to be unrelated except by divine intervention--occur. I think that it is a coinciding event that on Monday I am going into a five-day class which promises to be rich in other self-awareness. Who knows? A week from now, I will probably have a whole new lease on life, and Lord knows, I could use it. Stay tuned!
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
The Little Extra Boost Near the Top
Over 20 years ago while rafting the wild and scenic Rogue River in Southern Oregon, our guide suggested that if we followed a creek about a quarter of a mile from the river that we would find a wonderful "swimming hole" at the bottom of a pretty little waterfall.
Our party couldn't resist. We walked the short quarter of a mile, and several jumped in to swim. I became intrigued with the waterfall. There was a rope hanging to the right of the fall. A number of high-school and college-aged men were climbing the 12 to 15 feet up the rope. When they got to the top, they would sit at the top of the waterfall for a minute or two, allowing the water to build pressure behind them. At a critical moment, each would use his hands to lift his rear just enough that the water would send him cascading into the pool below.
"I want to do that!" I said. I had not been known for either my courage or athletic prowess, and at the time, I was undecidedly in "middle age." Upper body strength wasn't a strong suit for me either. My companions thought I was joking. I was not. I wanted to do that. Amidst friendly joshing, I grabbed the rope and started the climb.
Between the ridges in the rocks and the rope, I did pretty well for the first eight to ten feet, but by that point, my arms were shaking from weakness. Slowly but surely, I continued my climb. Finally, when I was 12 to 18 inches from the top, I had no strength left. I could hardly hold the rope. The problem was there wasn't an easy way down, and I didn't think I could make it up. There I hung, shaking. By this point, jeers had turned to cheers. How could I stop now? But there was nothing left.
Just when I could go no further, two young men with arms the size of small trees reached down, each grabbing one of my shaking arms, and swooped my diminutive figure up to the ledge. It felt like a miracle to me. Actually, it was a miracle now that I think of it. That, it seems, was the easy part.
I don't know what I'd been thinking. I get shaky on a step ladder, and this ledge was easily two or three times the height of a ladder. What had I been thinking? What had looked like such fun at the bottom now looked terrifying. But, there was no other way down, and besides that, I was now firmly the center of attention from the adults below and the young men behind me.
The guys explained to me what I had to do, and one even demonstrated. They provided lots of encouragement. Courage was something I had to provide. I sat for several minutes at the top of the fall, much longer than any of them had. I could feel the water building up behind me. One said, you just need to lift up a little bit, and the water takes care of the rest. "Yeah," I said knowingly. That wasn't exactly the nudge I needed at the moment. I sat and sat. Much cheering continued from above and below.
I am not sure where it came from, but I finally found the courage to lift ever the slightest bit, and, just as promised, over I went. Faster than I knew what was happening, I was splashing in the pool below. I do believe that was the most exhilarating moment of my life.
In an extended meditation over the weekend, I kept seeing myself being pulled up by those two hunky young men. The metaphor was not wasted on me. I've been exhausted, just as I'd keep feeling, even promising myself, I was near the top of the ledge. I've been so exhausted that I've felt shaky and weak physically--not sure how I'd push on. I've felt like I couldn't see my way up, but there was no good way down. And, I've been hanging there for much of the year.
I uttered a prayer, "Dear God, please lift me up."
The words I heard back, "Only you can help yourself. You have it in you."
"Geez, God. Can't you do better than that? I wanted to feel you swoop me out of this situation, like those two young men did on the ledge."
Almost as soon as I took my minute to wallow in self-pity, I understood what I must do. The people I work with will not only allow, but will encourage and tacitly require the labor I've been putting in...until I refuse to do it any more. So I have. Instead of 11- and 12-hour days, I've work 9 and 9.5 the last two days. I left at a few minutes after my "normal" quitting time to have a drink with some women friends. Tomorrow, I will leave on time to make it to my tango class.
Having an extra two to three hours in the evening has been almost as exhilarating as splashing into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, but I think the real parallel to that experience is just around the corner.
Last week I wrote about being "Left Hanging" (8/26.) Two of the situations have resolved themselves. My trip was postponed until a time when I couldn't take it, and I got into the class for which I'd been on the waiting list. It ends up that the class is much more personal growth than I'd anticipated. It has been a decade since I've walked into those waters. As I've done pre-work activities, I've found myself really anticipating (8/8) the work. I expect that I am going to find myself almost as excited as I was when I splashed into that pool those years ago. I believe that I needed to do the work to get myself to the top, though, before I could feel the delight when it is finished.
Our party couldn't resist. We walked the short quarter of a mile, and several jumped in to swim. I became intrigued with the waterfall. There was a rope hanging to the right of the fall. A number of high-school and college-aged men were climbing the 12 to 15 feet up the rope. When they got to the top, they would sit at the top of the waterfall for a minute or two, allowing the water to build pressure behind them. At a critical moment, each would use his hands to lift his rear just enough that the water would send him cascading into the pool below.
"I want to do that!" I said. I had not been known for either my courage or athletic prowess, and at the time, I was undecidedly in "middle age." Upper body strength wasn't a strong suit for me either. My companions thought I was joking. I was not. I wanted to do that. Amidst friendly joshing, I grabbed the rope and started the climb.
Between the ridges in the rocks and the rope, I did pretty well for the first eight to ten feet, but by that point, my arms were shaking from weakness. Slowly but surely, I continued my climb. Finally, when I was 12 to 18 inches from the top, I had no strength left. I could hardly hold the rope. The problem was there wasn't an easy way down, and I didn't think I could make it up. There I hung, shaking. By this point, jeers had turned to cheers. How could I stop now? But there was nothing left.
Just when I could go no further, two young men with arms the size of small trees reached down, each grabbing one of my shaking arms, and swooped my diminutive figure up to the ledge. It felt like a miracle to me. Actually, it was a miracle now that I think of it. That, it seems, was the easy part.
I don't know what I'd been thinking. I get shaky on a step ladder, and this ledge was easily two or three times the height of a ladder. What had I been thinking? What had looked like such fun at the bottom now looked terrifying. But, there was no other way down, and besides that, I was now firmly the center of attention from the adults below and the young men behind me.
The guys explained to me what I had to do, and one even demonstrated. They provided lots of encouragement. Courage was something I had to provide. I sat for several minutes at the top of the fall, much longer than any of them had. I could feel the water building up behind me. One said, you just need to lift up a little bit, and the water takes care of the rest. "Yeah," I said knowingly. That wasn't exactly the nudge I needed at the moment. I sat and sat. Much cheering continued from above and below.
I am not sure where it came from, but I finally found the courage to lift ever the slightest bit, and, just as promised, over I went. Faster than I knew what was happening, I was splashing in the pool below. I do believe that was the most exhilarating moment of my life.
In an extended meditation over the weekend, I kept seeing myself being pulled up by those two hunky young men. The metaphor was not wasted on me. I've been exhausted, just as I'd keep feeling, even promising myself, I was near the top of the ledge. I've been so exhausted that I've felt shaky and weak physically--not sure how I'd push on. I've felt like I couldn't see my way up, but there was no good way down. And, I've been hanging there for much of the year.
I uttered a prayer, "Dear God, please lift me up."
The words I heard back, "Only you can help yourself. You have it in you."
"Geez, God. Can't you do better than that? I wanted to feel you swoop me out of this situation, like those two young men did on the ledge."
Almost as soon as I took my minute to wallow in self-pity, I understood what I must do. The people I work with will not only allow, but will encourage and tacitly require the labor I've been putting in...until I refuse to do it any more. So I have. Instead of 11- and 12-hour days, I've work 9 and 9.5 the last two days. I left at a few minutes after my "normal" quitting time to have a drink with some women friends. Tomorrow, I will leave on time to make it to my tango class.
Having an extra two to three hours in the evening has been almost as exhilarating as splashing into the pool at the bottom of the waterfall, but I think the real parallel to that experience is just around the corner.
Last week I wrote about being "Left Hanging" (8/26.) Two of the situations have resolved themselves. My trip was postponed until a time when I couldn't take it, and I got into the class for which I'd been on the waiting list. It ends up that the class is much more personal growth than I'd anticipated. It has been a decade since I've walked into those waters. As I've done pre-work activities, I've found myself really anticipating (8/8) the work. I expect that I am going to find myself almost as excited as I was when I splashed into that pool those years ago. I believe that I needed to do the work to get myself to the top, though, before I could feel the delight when it is finished.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Labor Day
Today is Labor Day. When I was teaching, school started in mid-August, so the early September holiday was a good opportunity for me to give my university students an extra credit assignment. "What is this holiday about?" I'd ask, "and how does it relate to the subject of this class?"
I taught a number of classes--human resource management, organizational behavior, management strategy, and even labor relations. Labor Day had something to do with all of them. If you go to Google today, you will read, "Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers."
My students didn't get off that easily.
In the late 19th Century, a lot of blood was shed to acquire for workers basic rights that most of us take for granted today--paid vacation, sick leave, and benefits packages. While many achievements were the result of labor-management contracts that were assured by the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA,) which was passed in 1935, to my mind, the real impact of the labor movement came from legislation: legislation that prohibited child labor and made school attendance mandatory, a minimum wage, a 40-hour work week which allowed for overtime pay, and a reasonably safe workplace.
To a certain extent, the success of labor unions in accomplishing so much legislatively may have led to weakening the movement. With that weakening, coupled with the advent of technology which allows it, has come the 24x7 work life. As more and more employers have figured out ways to circumvent overtime pay, work days and work weeks have expanded dramatically.
In the years when American workers were treated more sanely, they produced incredible creativity and breakthroughs in productivity. In the last decade of the 20th Century many employers actually expressed and demonstrated an interest in the souls, spirits, and passions of their workers. A "Spirit in Business" movement blossomed across the country. (Really across the world, but my concern is what is happening with American workers.)
My first two books Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear were written to leaders who wanted to foster a more compassionate workplace. Not because the NLRB said that they had to negotiate or one piece of legislation or another required them to do so, but because in their hearts they knew it was the right thing to do, and they wanted to do the right thing.
On Labor Day, I am concerned that the kind of compassion and caring by employers that was reasonably common in the 1990s has all but disappeared today. I truly hope that people, who read this post, will reassess and ask themselves, "What can I do to make work in American more humane, more caring, and more compassionate?" Of course, it is easier to make an impact from a formal management role, but, like I said in Leading from the Heart, we are all leaders and have within us the ability to make a difference.
The difference that I am committing to make is to be more compassionate to myself. If my bosses choose not to, then I have to draw a line. I also commit to not feeling guilty because workaholic coworkers choose to work the despicable hours. Finally, I will do a lot of prayer work to find my way to a work situation where compassion is not only present but still rules the day.
I taught a number of classes--human resource management, organizational behavior, management strategy, and even labor relations. Labor Day had something to do with all of them. If you go to Google today, you will read, "Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers."
My students didn't get off that easily.
In the late 19th Century, a lot of blood was shed to acquire for workers basic rights that most of us take for granted today--paid vacation, sick leave, and benefits packages. While many achievements were the result of labor-management contracts that were assured by the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA,) which was passed in 1935, to my mind, the real impact of the labor movement came from legislation: legislation that prohibited child labor and made school attendance mandatory, a minimum wage, a 40-hour work week which allowed for overtime pay, and a reasonably safe workplace.
To a certain extent, the success of labor unions in accomplishing so much legislatively may have led to weakening the movement. With that weakening, coupled with the advent of technology which allows it, has come the 24x7 work life. As more and more employers have figured out ways to circumvent overtime pay, work days and work weeks have expanded dramatically.
In the years when American workers were treated more sanely, they produced incredible creativity and breakthroughs in productivity. In the last decade of the 20th Century many employers actually expressed and demonstrated an interest in the souls, spirits, and passions of their workers. A "Spirit in Business" movement blossomed across the country. (Really across the world, but my concern is what is happening with American workers.)
My first two books Leading from the Heart and The Alchemy of Fear were written to leaders who wanted to foster a more compassionate workplace. Not because the NLRB said that they had to negotiate or one piece of legislation or another required them to do so, but because in their hearts they knew it was the right thing to do, and they wanted to do the right thing.
On Labor Day, I am concerned that the kind of compassion and caring by employers that was reasonably common in the 1990s has all but disappeared today. I truly hope that people, who read this post, will reassess and ask themselves, "What can I do to make work in American more humane, more caring, and more compassionate?" Of course, it is easier to make an impact from a formal management role, but, like I said in Leading from the Heart, we are all leaders and have within us the ability to make a difference.
The difference that I am committing to make is to be more compassionate to myself. If my bosses choose not to, then I have to draw a line. I also commit to not feeling guilty because workaholic coworkers choose to work the despicable hours. Finally, I will do a lot of prayer work to find my way to a work situation where compassion is not only present but still rules the day.
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