Those who have been reading this blog for a while will recall that I've felt like I was in a transition for at least a year, maybe 18 months. I have talked about "feeling pregnant," sure that I was going to "deliver" a new and fuller me without really knowing what that meant.
All of a sudden, it feels like I am in the final moments of giving birth. I still don't really know where it is going, but I do know that I've learned a huge amount about myself and life over the last few months. Whatever is coming feels like I've taken a quantum leap in the cycle of spirit growth.
In the process of doing some "cleaning up of the past" so that I can really move forward, I stumbled onto "self-trust" as an issue. It ends up that the whole self-trust thing has come up before. 20-plus years ago, I had a cranial-sacral session in which the practitioner said, "You have self-trust issues." I was indignant.
My integrity is critical to me. I wouldn't/couldn't lie, cheat or steal. I am the girl who argued about the integrity of exceeding the speed limit by 5 miles an hour even if everyone else was doing it. How could I have self-trust issues? But self-trust...even trust...is more than that. In fact, integrity is much more than not lying, cheating, or stealing. As soon as I was able to break through my self-righteousness after each of these messages about self-trust, everywhere I turned I was able to see lack of self-trust.
Integrity derives from the same Greek root as "integer"--a whole number. Being in integrity is being true to who you know you are in your heart. Self-trust is acting in accord with that "soul's intention" for your life. Sometimes I've been very good at acting in alignment with my truth, but I admit that in recent years more often than not I've more reliably acting in accord with what the world around me has expected of me.
The world around me tells me that financial success, a well-founded retirement, and increasingly higher status jobs is "success," but I've really know that wasn't my definition of success. Why have I tolerated a job and superiors who treat me so disrespectfully for years? Do I not trust myself to do the things that I know are right for me? For that matter, why is it that I can't keep my intentions to avoid sugar, or to write this blog, or to meditate everyday? Those are the intentions that I know to be true to my heart.
Several months ago I mustered the courage to tell my boss I was quitting at the end of the summer...without another job in hand. That was integrity and self-trust. I gave a long notice because I needed that time to make sure current projects were either complete or at the stage of development at which they could be handed off to someone else. Taking good care of clients I love was integrity. I couldn't have trusted myself if I'd done less.
As the weeks passed I found myself dragging my feet. I kept saying the words but inside me I was afraid I couldn't do it.
In June I began to feel a real physical exhaustion. Why, I asked myself, had I not planned to leave sooner? Two things occurred about the same time that reinforced my decision to leave, and they were the final straws. Suddenly I was like the proverbial horse headed for the barn. I may not know what was at the end of the tunnel, but I was sure it would be better. Almost overnight, I felt a super-charged sense of self-efficacy. In retrospect, I had recognized my ability to come out on top... whatever life presented me. I finally trusted myself. Whoo-hoo!
The Universe was very affirming. Almost as soon as I got really clear that I was going to come out better however I came out, things started popping. I had two interviews in a week for a job I'd applied for in February. The founder of a new consulting firm called and began salary negotiation for an executive position. I attended a conference and a professional meeting and walked away from both with several leads on contract work if I decided to go independent. All of this is 10 days time. Within another week, I had an offer for a job I've agreed to take that will allow me to do work that is better aligned with my strengths and is significantly more money and benefits.
I have wondered to myself a number of times what would have happened if I'd quit this job years ago. Did I just need to trust myself enough to know I would land on my feet for the Universe to support me? Although we will never know, I am guessing that is true.
After a dry spell, my date life is picking up again, too. No great loves on the horizon. What I've started noticing that if a man doesn't treat me the way I expect to be treated, I trust myself enough to just walk away (once in the middle of dinner) rather than politely tolerating unacceptable behavior.
One of my favorite rom-com movies is "The Holiday." In it, Iris, played by Kate Winslet, has been a doormat for her "former" boyfriend. Although he is in a relationship with another woman, he uses Iris when it is convenient for him. Iris encounters an octogenarian screenwriter, who "assigns" her movie watching of classic films with strong female leads.
Soon her boyfriend is once again asking her to do something for him again. This time she indignantly refuses. "What's gotten into you, Iris?" he asks. Stopped in her tracks for a split second, Iris hesitates before saying, "I think it is something resembling gumption."
"Gumption" isn't a word I hear often these days. Yet that is what I am finding seems to come in the wake of self-trust. When I know what is right for me in my heart, and when I act on what I know is true, the gumption part seems to come easily. Gumption isn't arrogant: it feels to me like a deep, peaceful truth that wells up inside of me, offering a sense of strength and focus that I haven't been conscious of for a while.
Trust, you see, is a lot like a hug: you have to give it to get it. Once I started trusting myself with the truth of my heart, the Universe has trusted me enough to support me in my truth. Can there be much more?
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Tuesday, August 2, 2016
Play...woohoo!
Sunday afternoon I found a table poolside and sat and colored for an hour or so. I didn't check the time, so that is just a guess. I just got lost in the endeavor. When I did need to look at the clock to go pack a bag for business travel, I felt amazingly relaxed. And no small amount of pride in my evolving work.
The three- and six-year olds in my life about whom I've written previously sent me a set of 24 (yes!) placemats to color. The mats were collages of scenes from 24 different cities. Sunday I lost myself in London and daydreamed about a visit there over 20 years ago. I just drifted along in timelessness.
My reverie, which continued long after I stopped coloring, reminded me of a time in my adult life when I was truly playful. I loved coming up with playful schemes. I just let my inner kid spontaneously let me and those around me laugh...mostly. I remember someone who once questioned, "Aren't you ever going to grow up?" At the time, I was in my early mid-40s. I pondered for only a second before responding, "I hope not!"
So what exactly is play? Stuart Brown, head of the non-profit National Institute for Play, said in a 2014 interview for NPR** "Play is something that is done for its own sake....It's voluntary, it's pleasurable, it offers a sense of engagement, it takes you out of time. And the act itself is more important than the outcome."
As I read this definition, I connected the dots with one of the places I am really able to play--the dance floor. I am a good dancer, as are most of the people I dance with. What I really enjoy most is dancing with someone who is good but isn't dancing to prove something. A partner who brings an element of reckless abandonment...with good technique...flips my switches. I love it when I walk off the dance floor with both of us laughing.
I recall being in Seattle with a friend years ago. Pre-GPS, we got lost. The more we tried to find our way to the right freeway, the more lost we seemed to become. Somehow, we got started giggling, and within a few minutes, we were laughing so hard that we had to pull over and stop. A nice man offered help, but we were laughing so hard we could hardly get the words out about what road we were attempting to find. Our playfulness about getting lost took us out of time, and the fun we were having certainly was more important than finding I5.
It also seems to me that play brings to us that most spiritual of qualities--being present. I am not sure it is possible to really truly play and not be in the present. If the mind is wandering or we get too caught up in the win and lose, whatever we are doing ceases to be play and becomes some other sort of endeavor. Many years ago during a personal growth seminar, my former partner and I discovered that all the things that we said we did for fun had really become work. While it was great exercise, I cannot imagine any definition of play that includes climbing 18 miles up a mountain on a 100-degree.
One internet source* explains there are five key benefits for adult play:
*http://www.helpguide.org/articles/emotional-health/benefits-of-play-for-adults.htm
*http://www.npr.org/sections/ed/2014/08/06/336360521/play-doesnt-end-with-childhood-why-adults-need-recess-too
The three- and six-year olds in my life about whom I've written previously sent me a set of 24 (yes!) placemats to color. The mats were collages of scenes from 24 different cities. Sunday I lost myself in London and daydreamed about a visit there over 20 years ago. I just drifted along in timelessness.
My reverie, which continued long after I stopped coloring, reminded me of a time in my adult life when I was truly playful. I loved coming up with playful schemes. I just let my inner kid spontaneously let me and those around me laugh...mostly. I remember someone who once questioned, "Aren't you ever going to grow up?" At the time, I was in my early mid-40s. I pondered for only a second before responding, "I hope not!"
So what exactly is play? Stuart Brown, head of the non-profit National Institute for Play, said in a 2014 interview for NPR** "Play is something that is done for its own sake....It's voluntary, it's pleasurable, it offers a sense of engagement, it takes you out of time. And the act itself is more important than the outcome."
As I read this definition, I connected the dots with one of the places I am really able to play--the dance floor. I am a good dancer, as are most of the people I dance with. What I really enjoy most is dancing with someone who is good but isn't dancing to prove something. A partner who brings an element of reckless abandonment...with good technique...flips my switches. I love it when I walk off the dance floor with both of us laughing.
I recall being in Seattle with a friend years ago. Pre-GPS, we got lost. The more we tried to find our way to the right freeway, the more lost we seemed to become. Somehow, we got started giggling, and within a few minutes, we were laughing so hard that we had to pull over and stop. A nice man offered help, but we were laughing so hard we could hardly get the words out about what road we were attempting to find. Our playfulness about getting lost took us out of time, and the fun we were having certainly was more important than finding I5.
It also seems to me that play brings to us that most spiritual of qualities--being present. I am not sure it is possible to really truly play and not be in the present. If the mind is wandering or we get too caught up in the win and lose, whatever we are doing ceases to be play and becomes some other sort of endeavor. Many years ago during a personal growth seminar, my former partner and I discovered that all the things that we said we did for fun had really become work. While it was great exercise, I cannot imagine any definition of play that includes climbing 18 miles up a mountain on a 100-degree.
One internet source* explains there are five key benefits for adult play:
- Relieve stress
- Improve brain function
- Stimulate the mind and boost creativity
- Improve relationships and connection to others (Apparently, there is a lot of play in durable marriages.)
- Keep you feeling young and energetic
I once had a client who, in presenting the problems his office faced, said, "The administrative support professionals laugh a lot." I queried, "And, that would be a problem how?" I have several games that I facilitate with adult teams at work. Always, the relaxation and laughter break down walls and open communication. Laughter and humor, in and of themselves, have been demonstrated to generate creativity and increase innovation.
Play is apparently also effective at healing emotional wounds. That may be why I so used to love to play. Notice I said, "...used to love to play?" I used to have a fun kit. Among other things it included bubble to blow, three kites to choose from to fly, a full set of 64 crayons and a coloring book. I usually still have a bottle of bubbles and blower on my balcony, just in case I feel the need to blow bubbles, but somewhere along the way journey of surviving two gigantic financial crises and a business failure, the kit disappeared.
Like so many pleasures of life, play seems to have slipped away from me. Brown says that "Adults without play are not much fun to be around." I have found that...about myself. I am delighted to say that the little ones are coming to visit in just over two weeks, and I am sure that I will play with reckless abandon. I hope they will help me rediscover my funny bone and bring play back into my life.
*http://www.helpguide.org/articles/emotional-health/benefits-of-play-for-adults.htm
*http://www.npr.org/sections/ed/2014/08/06/336360521/play-doesnt-end-with-childhood-why-adults-need-recess-too
Sunday, July 24, 2016
Boundaries
Washington is in the middle of a week of brutally hot weather, exceeding 100 degrees and shattering long-standing records. With the humidity, our heat indices have been even more relentless. Yet this morning I've been quite comfortably luxuriating on my north-facing balcony with a slight breeze. I breakfasted outdoors, a guilty pleasure I've enjoyed most of my adult life. As I did so, I found my mind drifting back to several patios, decks, and balconies on which I had breakfasted and to the friends with whom I had shared stories and laughed as we ate.
Before eating, I had finished a novel that I started a month ago on my staycation. In it the main characters started the book as boys, and by the end, they had become old men with failing eyesight. The book left me in a reflective space, which may have spawned my breakfast reverie. I've been thinking about this post for some time. For once I am not going to use the excuse of no time to write. If you had asked I wouldn't have known why I hadn't written, but this morning I know that I just hadn't had enough perspective.
I believe the expression "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear" came from the I Ching, but I also believe that a number of Eastern philosophies hold something similar to be true. During my outdoor breakfast contemplation this morning, the pieces began to fall into place for me. I, as the student, must be ready because lots of opportunities to learn a similar lesson have appeared.
During my four-month detail last fall and early winter, I became keenly aware that my life had spun totally out of control in recent years--to the extent that my physical and mental health were being compromised and my relationships were back-burnered, awaiting that precious "time" for nurturing. Certainly, time for writing, which really nourishes my soul, had become a low priority. I fell asleep from exhaustion when I tried to meditate. I had to be away from my long-standing, abusive work environment to get the perspective to recognize that.
In those treasured four months, I was able to see what had evaded me for so long. In my situation I had lost either the self-respect or the self-confidence to set and stick to my boundaries. When I returned to my permanent job, I wrote in big block letters with a box around them on the whiteboard behind my desk, where I looked at it every time I entered my office, "boundary clarity."
In a matter of days, I was tested. An unsustainable level of dark work again began flowing at me from very high places. Encouraged by my "boundary clarity" reminder, I began telling my clients that I would work with them, but it would be three months, four months, and even five months later. I brought in a contractor to do work with one client organization, which had needs that wouldn't wait. Still, the darkness and the volume of the work were too much.
Within a month I knew something had to change. After several conversations with my new boss, it became clear that the organization was more concerned about keeping my very senior customers happy than in keeping me healthy and happy. No relief would be coming, but I was assured that I was very good at this work. After an unusually frightening dream about the same time, I knew I had to leave. I began the process of planning for an end-of-the-summer departure. I was quite transparent with my boss and his boss about planning for an August separation.
I had no other job from which to make money, and I really need serious income for several years yet I knew I needed to take care of myself. My friends worried a bit more than I did about how I would live, but as soon as I got very clear about needing to move on, I had faith that something would work out. My big focus was on getting my clients, most of whom I'd worked with for years, to a good transition point. I learned about a month ago that the boss didn't really think I'd go, but he obviously doesn't know my courage when my spiritual path has become clear to me, and it had become very clear to me.
As soon as I had become very clear, out of the blue I received a call from a potential employer. Job announcements began falling into my email inbox with regularity. Even USAJobs, which has seldom had appropriate jobs, sent me a promising vacancy announcement. I am now just five weeks from my departure date, and I have two very strong prospects, each of which allows me to work in my "sweet spot," and each of which will be a significant increase in income. Perhaps as encouraging is that along the way as I networked with former bosses and colleagues, I found great sources for independent contract work.
In parallel, I realized how my work situation has made me unavailable for time with friends and even to pursue a primary relationship. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I added up how many years it had been since I'd had more than a date or two with someone. It wasn't an acceptable number. I began focusing my intention on at least meeting some men. I had first dates with people I would have just checked off my list a year ago. Most of them weren't serious prospects, but I was at least getting out and sending the Universe a message that I was serious.
Along the way, something else happened. While I just didn't have much in common with most of these men, there was another category. The only way I can describe them is "Really?!" The one who pronounced that he had two other women in his life but would like to add others. "Really?!" There was one who was married but said his wife was OK with him dating others. "Really?!" Last week, there was one who seriously treated me like a child. "Really?!" I wanted to add, "What do I look like?" but the truth is, I probably looked like a doormat, both at work and in my personal life.
I like to be nice to people. If I have ever been rude, it was either because I was tired or didn't realize what I was doing. In each of these cases, I just walked out. The last one in the middle of dinner at a famous-chef restaurant that I really love. As a serious foodie, that should have been hard, but it wasn't. Following each of these, someone more interesting followed. I'm still not there yet, but...progress.
In the 2006 movie "The Holiday," one of two female leads, Iris, played by Kate Winslet, has also been down on her confidence and has allowed her former boyfriend to walk all over her. In the movie, she meets an octogenarian, who is former screenwriter. He begins "assigning" her movie viewing of classic films, all of which have strong women leads. After said boyfriend crosses the line yet one more time, she kicks him out of her life. He is incredulous. "What's gotten into you, Iris?" he asks.
After a pause, she replies, "I think it is something resembling gumption." And, away she sends him.
As I've been contemplating this post over the last few weeks, that scene and those words have played over and again in my mind. Where did my gumption go, and more importantly, how did I let it go. I have been a strong woman most of my adult life. Anyone who has known me before this century would certainly have laughed at the thought that I didn't have confidence. A former dance partner once remarked (paraphrased for the general audience) "You have more moxie than any man I know."
"Where did it go?" is still a question I ponder, but mostly, I don't care. What I am passionate about is sustaining it into what feels to me like the next phase of my life--one that promises to be the best ever.
While both personally and professionally my life has been about helping others, I now know that I can't sustain my help for others if I don't take care of my first. How many coaching clients have I reminded that the airlines always warn us to put the oxygen mask over our own faces before attempting to help children around us. On this turn of the hero's journey, I've gotten this lesson differently than I had before. Saying "Sorry, I can't help me, I need to take care of myself," really is uncomfortable to even consider, but, whatever comes next, that is a clear boundary that I must enforce.
Before eating, I had finished a novel that I started a month ago on my staycation. In it the main characters started the book as boys, and by the end, they had become old men with failing eyesight. The book left me in a reflective space, which may have spawned my breakfast reverie. I've been thinking about this post for some time. For once I am not going to use the excuse of no time to write. If you had asked I wouldn't have known why I hadn't written, but this morning I know that I just hadn't had enough perspective.
I believe the expression "When the student is ready, the teacher will appear" came from the I Ching, but I also believe that a number of Eastern philosophies hold something similar to be true. During my outdoor breakfast contemplation this morning, the pieces began to fall into place for me. I, as the student, must be ready because lots of opportunities to learn a similar lesson have appeared.
During my four-month detail last fall and early winter, I became keenly aware that my life had spun totally out of control in recent years--to the extent that my physical and mental health were being compromised and my relationships were back-burnered, awaiting that precious "time" for nurturing. Certainly, time for writing, which really nourishes my soul, had become a low priority. I fell asleep from exhaustion when I tried to meditate. I had to be away from my long-standing, abusive work environment to get the perspective to recognize that.
In those treasured four months, I was able to see what had evaded me for so long. In my situation I had lost either the self-respect or the self-confidence to set and stick to my boundaries. When I returned to my permanent job, I wrote in big block letters with a box around them on the whiteboard behind my desk, where I looked at it every time I entered my office, "boundary clarity."
In a matter of days, I was tested. An unsustainable level of dark work again began flowing at me from very high places. Encouraged by my "boundary clarity" reminder, I began telling my clients that I would work with them, but it would be three months, four months, and even five months later. I brought in a contractor to do work with one client organization, which had needs that wouldn't wait. Still, the darkness and the volume of the work were too much.
Within a month I knew something had to change. After several conversations with my new boss, it became clear that the organization was more concerned about keeping my very senior customers happy than in keeping me healthy and happy. No relief would be coming, but I was assured that I was very good at this work. After an unusually frightening dream about the same time, I knew I had to leave. I began the process of planning for an end-of-the-summer departure. I was quite transparent with my boss and his boss about planning for an August separation.
I had no other job from which to make money, and I really need serious income for several years yet I knew I needed to take care of myself. My friends worried a bit more than I did about how I would live, but as soon as I got very clear about needing to move on, I had faith that something would work out. My big focus was on getting my clients, most of whom I'd worked with for years, to a good transition point. I learned about a month ago that the boss didn't really think I'd go, but he obviously doesn't know my courage when my spiritual path has become clear to me, and it had become very clear to me.
As soon as I had become very clear, out of the blue I received a call from a potential employer. Job announcements began falling into my email inbox with regularity. Even USAJobs, which has seldom had appropriate jobs, sent me a promising vacancy announcement. I am now just five weeks from my departure date, and I have two very strong prospects, each of which allows me to work in my "sweet spot," and each of which will be a significant increase in income. Perhaps as encouraging is that along the way as I networked with former bosses and colleagues, I found great sources for independent contract work.
In parallel, I realized how my work situation has made me unavailable for time with friends and even to pursue a primary relationship. In fact, for the first time in a long time, I added up how many years it had been since I'd had more than a date or two with someone. It wasn't an acceptable number. I began focusing my intention on at least meeting some men. I had first dates with people I would have just checked off my list a year ago. Most of them weren't serious prospects, but I was at least getting out and sending the Universe a message that I was serious.
Along the way, something else happened. While I just didn't have much in common with most of these men, there was another category. The only way I can describe them is "Really?!" The one who pronounced that he had two other women in his life but would like to add others. "Really?!" There was one who was married but said his wife was OK with him dating others. "Really?!" Last week, there was one who seriously treated me like a child. "Really?!" I wanted to add, "What do I look like?" but the truth is, I probably looked like a doormat, both at work and in my personal life.
I like to be nice to people. If I have ever been rude, it was either because I was tired or didn't realize what I was doing. In each of these cases, I just walked out. The last one in the middle of dinner at a famous-chef restaurant that I really love. As a serious foodie, that should have been hard, but it wasn't. Following each of these, someone more interesting followed. I'm still not there yet, but...progress.
In the 2006 movie "The Holiday," one of two female leads, Iris, played by Kate Winslet, has also been down on her confidence and has allowed her former boyfriend to walk all over her. In the movie, she meets an octogenarian, who is former screenwriter. He begins "assigning" her movie viewing of classic films, all of which have strong women leads. After said boyfriend crosses the line yet one more time, she kicks him out of her life. He is incredulous. "What's gotten into you, Iris?" he asks.
After a pause, she replies, "I think it is something resembling gumption." And, away she sends him.
As I've been contemplating this post over the last few weeks, that scene and those words have played over and again in my mind. Where did my gumption go, and more importantly, how did I let it go. I have been a strong woman most of my adult life. Anyone who has known me before this century would certainly have laughed at the thought that I didn't have confidence. A former dance partner once remarked (paraphrased for the general audience) "You have more moxie than any man I know."
"Where did it go?" is still a question I ponder, but mostly, I don't care. What I am passionate about is sustaining it into what feels to me like the next phase of my life--one that promises to be the best ever.
While both personally and professionally my life has been about helping others, I now know that I can't sustain my help for others if I don't take care of my first. How many coaching clients have I reminded that the airlines always warn us to put the oxygen mask over our own faces before attempting to help children around us. On this turn of the hero's journey, I've gotten this lesson differently than I had before. Saying "Sorry, I can't help me, I need to take care of myself," really is uncomfortable to even consider, but, whatever comes next, that is a clear boundary that I must enforce.
Wednesday, July 6, 2016
Digital Detox
There is an expression, maybe from the I Ching, "when the student is ready the teacher will appear." My last post on "Digital Addiction" was hardly stalled in my iPhone, when it seemed that everywhere I turned, I was encountering something about the deleterious effects of digital addiction. I hadn't even realized that there even was such a thing as digital addiction until about six weeks ago. Now I am bumping into it everywhere.
First, though, I owe a report about how well I did, or more precisely didn't do, during my effort to walk away from my devices for one day. I found that every few minutes I would start to do something that involved one or another device. I would catch myself at least half the time, but that suggests that half of the time I mindlessly turned to the radio, iPhone, notebook, or television. Most of the time, I noticed within seconds, but at 5 p.m., I abandoned the experiment and decided that I would wait until my staycation. My little experiment has been a good lesson in not being present.
I am now six days into my annual vacation at home, and I realized two things going into my leave. First, I really needed to be off devices more. Second, going cold turkey was not going to work for me since I did want to arrange lunches, coffee, or drinks and other outings with friends, and doing so would require one or more of my devices. So, rather than shutting down all devices for 10 days, I took an approach we might call mini-withdrawals.
With my mini-withdrawals, I have brought more conscious to my use of electronics. That allowed me to actually choose when I wanted/needed to use by devices and be aware of how much of the time I was turning to them out of pure habit...and addiction. It has also allowed me to choose more consciously what I will watch or listen to. I quickly discovered that I often had something mindless on in the background just to fill space rather than because I really wanted to watch or listen.
How has this actually worked? When I was cooking for a dinner party Friday night and Saturday, I normally have had NPR, a podcast, Spanish lesson, or audiobook in the background. I made the decision to cook in silence. My cooking became a meditation. I was able to really be present. My guests arrived and I was relaxed and present to them.
This evening I walked about 20 minutes to the hardware store to pick up some things, and again normally, I would have been listening to something. I made the conscious decision to just leave the iPhone in the charger. I ended up having a leisurely shopping trip during which I was able to just enjoy looking...and a little buying.
I took a book to read on my commute to a lunchtime concert at the Library of Congress rather than my usual practice of catching up with email and reading The Washington Post on my phone, while listening to podcasts or TuneIn Radio. I was enjoying the book so much that I just left my phone in my purse until I got home, and when I was present, I decided to have a lingering lunch rather than putting myself on autopilot and jumping on the Metro to return home.
When sitting by the pool yesterday, I didn't check anything on my iPhone, but I do confess to loving the "Ocean Waves" soundtrack in the background while I read. I was able to actually get into the book I was reading and with which I had been struggling for two weeks while reading a couple paragraphs before checking some device.
While I do find the level of my descension into this addiction distressing, given the number of places I've been bumping into media coverage of the problem, I am not alone. Last night on the shuttle from the Metro to the Kennedy Center, where we can safely assume everyone is going to enjoy a live performance, a woman was totally freaking out that she'd forgotten her iPhone. I was glad that I'd decided to turn mine off until I was headed home. It ended up that I was so relaxed from not looking all evening, that I didn't even look at the phone until I was home.
In the last two weeks, I've discovered a Digital Detox Boot Camp in the jungles of Costa Rica, where they take people's devices and lock them up for a week, while providing lots of physical activity to distract participants during withdrawal. In the coverage about the event, I learned that the average American looks as his/her smartphone every 4 minutes! Given that I do often go hours without looking at mine, I felt some righteous relief with that data point.
During a conference that I attended last week, I learned that there is actually a name for what happens to people who spend too much time on their devices: Cognitive Capacity Overload. The symptoms are the same as ADHD--Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, including inability to focus and really be present to what one is doing.
Just this evening on a Freakonomics Podcast--yes, I am still listening, but I have been much more judicious and have deleted about 3/4 of the podcasts to which I would normally have listened. Anyway, the podcast was exploring the health concerns related to lack of sleep, and you guessed, it all of our screens contribute to difficulty falling asleep and the quality of sleep once we do.
I love my iPhone, and it does provide me with efficiencies and effectiveness that I otherwise couldn't enjoy. (Thank you, Google Maps.) I am sure even those who will sojourn to Costa Rica for serious cold turkey withdrawal will pick their devices up again when they return. However, I have learned enough from my little experiment into mini-withdrawals to know that I will do them more frequently. The quality of my relaxation and the relaxation in my work is dramatically improved. And, I am able to embrace that most difficult of spiritual lessons: being present...in the present.
First, though, I owe a report about how well I did, or more precisely didn't do, during my effort to walk away from my devices for one day. I found that every few minutes I would start to do something that involved one or another device. I would catch myself at least half the time, but that suggests that half of the time I mindlessly turned to the radio, iPhone, notebook, or television. Most of the time, I noticed within seconds, but at 5 p.m., I abandoned the experiment and decided that I would wait until my staycation. My little experiment has been a good lesson in not being present.
I am now six days into my annual vacation at home, and I realized two things going into my leave. First, I really needed to be off devices more. Second, going cold turkey was not going to work for me since I did want to arrange lunches, coffee, or drinks and other outings with friends, and doing so would require one or more of my devices. So, rather than shutting down all devices for 10 days, I took an approach we might call mini-withdrawals.
With my mini-withdrawals, I have brought more conscious to my use of electronics. That allowed me to actually choose when I wanted/needed to use by devices and be aware of how much of the time I was turning to them out of pure habit...and addiction. It has also allowed me to choose more consciously what I will watch or listen to. I quickly discovered that I often had something mindless on in the background just to fill space rather than because I really wanted to watch or listen.
How has this actually worked? When I was cooking for a dinner party Friday night and Saturday, I normally have had NPR, a podcast, Spanish lesson, or audiobook in the background. I made the decision to cook in silence. My cooking became a meditation. I was able to really be present. My guests arrived and I was relaxed and present to them.
This evening I walked about 20 minutes to the hardware store to pick up some things, and again normally, I would have been listening to something. I made the conscious decision to just leave the iPhone in the charger. I ended up having a leisurely shopping trip during which I was able to just enjoy looking...and a little buying.
I took a book to read on my commute to a lunchtime concert at the Library of Congress rather than my usual practice of catching up with email and reading The Washington Post on my phone, while listening to podcasts or TuneIn Radio. I was enjoying the book so much that I just left my phone in my purse until I got home, and when I was present, I decided to have a lingering lunch rather than putting myself on autopilot and jumping on the Metro to return home.
When sitting by the pool yesterday, I didn't check anything on my iPhone, but I do confess to loving the "Ocean Waves" soundtrack in the background while I read. I was able to actually get into the book I was reading and with which I had been struggling for two weeks while reading a couple paragraphs before checking some device.
While I do find the level of my descension into this addiction distressing, given the number of places I've been bumping into media coverage of the problem, I am not alone. Last night on the shuttle from the Metro to the Kennedy Center, where we can safely assume everyone is going to enjoy a live performance, a woman was totally freaking out that she'd forgotten her iPhone. I was glad that I'd decided to turn mine off until I was headed home. It ended up that I was so relaxed from not looking all evening, that I didn't even look at the phone until I was home.
In the last two weeks, I've discovered a Digital Detox Boot Camp in the jungles of Costa Rica, where they take people's devices and lock them up for a week, while providing lots of physical activity to distract participants during withdrawal. In the coverage about the event, I learned that the average American looks as his/her smartphone every 4 minutes! Given that I do often go hours without looking at mine, I felt some righteous relief with that data point.
During a conference that I attended last week, I learned that there is actually a name for what happens to people who spend too much time on their devices: Cognitive Capacity Overload. The symptoms are the same as ADHD--Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder, including inability to focus and really be present to what one is doing.
Just this evening on a Freakonomics Podcast--yes, I am still listening, but I have been much more judicious and have deleted about 3/4 of the podcasts to which I would normally have listened. Anyway, the podcast was exploring the health concerns related to lack of sleep, and you guessed, it all of our screens contribute to difficulty falling asleep and the quality of sleep once we do.
I love my iPhone, and it does provide me with efficiencies and effectiveness that I otherwise couldn't enjoy. (Thank you, Google Maps.) I am sure even those who will sojourn to Costa Rica for serious cold turkey withdrawal will pick their devices up again when they return. However, I have learned enough from my little experiment into mini-withdrawals to know that I will do them more frequently. The quality of my relaxation and the relaxation in my work is dramatically improved. And, I am able to embrace that most difficult of spiritual lessons: being present...in the present.
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Digital Addiction
(Note: This was written about two weeks ago and has, by an interesting twist of fate, been trapped in my iPhone.)
Recently several articles in the Washington Post have
explored various aspects of digital addiction, even reporting on residential
treatment programs where people can go for withdrawal from their devices.
While I am certain that I am not nearly as badly hooked
as many around, I have wondered several times in the last month if I might not
be falling victim to this disease. I
have already decided that I want to go cold turkey during part of my staycation in
early July. But, even at that I have
wondered what exactly does "cold turkey" mean?
Since I get lost in my closet, I've been quite grateful
for having Google Maps facilitate my arrival when and where I attend. If I go
on an excursion during my staycation, must I really go back to reading maps,
which I really don't do very well?
If I totally give up electronics, that means I can't do
my Spanish lessons which require daily practice to be effective. Can I do my Spanish lesson once a day?
Can I sync my step- and sleep-tracker each day? What really are the consequences of not
knowing these things, which I cared little about until recently but which now
seem indispensable?
Usually during vacations, I really enjoy writing for this
blog. Would it be OK to write a blogpost
on one of several devices that I own?
You see the slippery slope upon which I am perched.
Back in the days during which the closest approximation
we had to smartphones was a Blackberry, they were jokingly referred to as
"crack berries" because even they were as addictive as crack
cocaine. Just the sampling of uses to
which I put my iPhone, described above, make it really easy to see how it is
easy to slip into this addiction. In and of itself, each use is benign; it is
the accumulation of all those helpful apps that threaten addiction. Even as I
write this, I am on my way to a Washington Nationals baseball game. Back in the
day, like 2010, I would have taken a book or a magazine to read on the commute,
and maybe I'd talk to people. Not today.
I love that I can finally have a chance to write, but relent the
consequences.
While I've been thinking about this issue for several
weeks, it is particularly heavy on me today.
I've been riveted to news coverage about the horrible tragedy in Orlando
all afternoon. Wearing my ear buds plugged to NPR as I ran errands and did
chores, I've hung on every word. Just before I started writing this post, I'd
found myself looking at my phone offering the temptation that a bag of heroine might
to a drug addict.
The line in the sand came when I realized that I'd
learned almost nothing...all afternoon.
(Note: Since starting this post earlier, I've now been to a very exciting baseball game
during which my phone remained happily in my purse.)
As I was saying, I came to the realization that while
there had been 4 or 5 reporters covering the event, almost nothing new was
reported. So what was the point of hanging
on every word, except for serving my addiction.
I do remember a time in the late 90s, though, when I was so disconnected
that my editor at Butterworth-Heinemann shared with me a breaking event about
Osama bin Laden, and I said, "Who?"
Clearly there is a happy medium between these extremes.
I do know that despite of, or maybe because of, that
exciting two-run 9th inning for the Nats, I feel way more relaxed after this
three hours than I did after three hours of the continuous news cycle. I take
that as good data. Now I just need to
turn that information into wisdom.
Because of a strange work week, my weekend is Sunday and
Monday this week, and while I won't give up my laptop, I plan to abandon my
iPhone except for what a phone is supposed to be used for--talking to friends.
Sunday, June 5, 2016
Spiritual Amnesia
In her popular book The Hero Within Jungian psychologist and writer Carol Pearson wrote about a lifelong journey through several archetypes--the innocent, the orphan, the magician, the wanderer, the martyr, and the warrior. Each archetype teaches us a lesson. For instance, the Warrior archetype teaches us the spiritual lesson of power, and the Wanderer shows us clarity.
Pearson describes our journey as a wheel, and life takes us through each of these life lessons several times. During each successive turn of the wheel, we are to master a more spiritually evolved degree of the lesson. For instance, I believe (I hope!) that I am now ending a turn at the Wanderer archetype. During the first pass through the Wanderer archetype we feel isolation, even alienation. In the second turn of the Hero's Wheel, we embark on a quest, flee captivity, and find treasure within ourselves. When we traverse Wanderer territory the third time, we discover to be one's Self and to have love and community.
Since these turns of the wheel may be decades apart, at first the archetypical spiritual lesson may feel new and foreign, but my experience has been to fairly quickly recall the lessons that we have already learned as we struggle to master the next level assignment. Passage through each archetype may take months or even years, but I have felt a blinding moment of Truth in which I finally "get it," and then I am free to move on to the next lesson. And, yes, if we are conscious, there is always "the next lesson" in yet another archetype.
I have certainly experienced what Pearson describes. I can look back at periods in my life and recall which archetypical spiritual lessons I was working on at different times. However, I have also experienced a similar or parallel process. For lack of something better to call it, let's just describe them as lapses into and out of spiritual amnesia. I suddenly think that I have had an epiphany: I see some aspect of the world in a different way. I am awash with spiritual liberation, as if I have just broken free of the bonds of some aspect of ignorance. In that moment I feel like God has pulled back the veil of the Universe and allowed me to peek at how it all works.
Yesterday I wrote about using Sister Joan Chittister's description of contemplation as seeing the world as God does. In my meditation I placed myself in the position of looking at me as if from God's perspective where I was able to see my struggle as a device to gain strength for whatever is next.
This morning I took Chittister's wisdom more literally. As my contemplation continued, as each thought or person bubbled into my awareness, I stilled my mind of its normal chatter and tried to see the person as God would. Suddenly, I thought: that is the point--to see each person as a child of God. Almost as quickly, it occurred to me that to see each person as a child of God will require continuous contemplation. My meditation cannot be 20 minutes set aside once or twice a day, but instead it must become a constant exercise of looking at the person in front of me at any time as if from God's eyes.
What a breakthrough, you may think. Sadly, it is not. Only a reemergence from spiritual amnesia for the umpteenth time. Probably the favorite speech I ever gave was about just this practice. Although I composed the speech in the early 2000s right after finishing The Game Called Life, "The Walk of Faith--Living a Prayer in the Real World" felt to me at the time as an outline for yet another book. "Living a prayer" described the continuous contemplation required to live in complete consciousness.
A few years earlier I had a related epiphany that the only way we as human beings have to know God is through other humans who so reflect the presence of Love that we can feel the Universe through them. During that period I would look for opportunities to visualize myself allowing God to use me as a human vessel for allowing those around me to know that complete feeling of Love that is God. I believe that is one of the most important lessons that the spiritual teacher Jesus was attempting to share with us as he allowed us to know God through him.
These are three distinctly different periods during which I clearly knew different aspects of the lesson that I seemed to discover anew today. Why, then, can I not seem to remember it? Maybe more accurately, what causes me to forget? Most importantly, how can I assure that I do remember for more than days or months but for the rest of my life? Sometimes my spiritual learning feels like the movie "Groundhog Day," in which every day was just the same with no forward movement. I am ready to move on from spiritual stuckness.
I ended the "Living a Prayer" speech by saying there is a ribbon of love that connects all of us, heart to heart, around the world. The ribbon of love can be activated by each of us, but if any of us fails to do our part, a short circuit occurs which stops the flow of love. Whenever someone crosses my path, it is my responsibility to activate the flow of love. For years I've talked about being response-able, which implies being conscious of choosing the response I want to send into the world. I want to choose love. I want to have the force of love that is God reflected from me to everyone I meet.
Pearson describes our journey as a wheel, and life takes us through each of these life lessons several times. During each successive turn of the wheel, we are to master a more spiritually evolved degree of the lesson. For instance, I believe (I hope!) that I am now ending a turn at the Wanderer archetype. During the first pass through the Wanderer archetype we feel isolation, even alienation. In the second turn of the Hero's Wheel, we embark on a quest, flee captivity, and find treasure within ourselves. When we traverse Wanderer territory the third time, we discover to be one's Self and to have love and community.
Since these turns of the wheel may be decades apart, at first the archetypical spiritual lesson may feel new and foreign, but my experience has been to fairly quickly recall the lessons that we have already learned as we struggle to master the next level assignment. Passage through each archetype may take months or even years, but I have felt a blinding moment of Truth in which I finally "get it," and then I am free to move on to the next lesson. And, yes, if we are conscious, there is always "the next lesson" in yet another archetype.
I have certainly experienced what Pearson describes. I can look back at periods in my life and recall which archetypical spiritual lessons I was working on at different times. However, I have also experienced a similar or parallel process. For lack of something better to call it, let's just describe them as lapses into and out of spiritual amnesia. I suddenly think that I have had an epiphany: I see some aspect of the world in a different way. I am awash with spiritual liberation, as if I have just broken free of the bonds of some aspect of ignorance. In that moment I feel like God has pulled back the veil of the Universe and allowed me to peek at how it all works.
Yesterday I wrote about using Sister Joan Chittister's description of contemplation as seeing the world as God does. In my meditation I placed myself in the position of looking at me as if from God's perspective where I was able to see my struggle as a device to gain strength for whatever is next.
This morning I took Chittister's wisdom more literally. As my contemplation continued, as each thought or person bubbled into my awareness, I stilled my mind of its normal chatter and tried to see the person as God would. Suddenly, I thought: that is the point--to see each person as a child of God. Almost as quickly, it occurred to me that to see each person as a child of God will require continuous contemplation. My meditation cannot be 20 minutes set aside once or twice a day, but instead it must become a constant exercise of looking at the person in front of me at any time as if from God's eyes.
What a breakthrough, you may think. Sadly, it is not. Only a reemergence from spiritual amnesia for the umpteenth time. Probably the favorite speech I ever gave was about just this practice. Although I composed the speech in the early 2000s right after finishing The Game Called Life, "The Walk of Faith--Living a Prayer in the Real World" felt to me at the time as an outline for yet another book. "Living a prayer" described the continuous contemplation required to live in complete consciousness.
A few years earlier I had a related epiphany that the only way we as human beings have to know God is through other humans who so reflect the presence of Love that we can feel the Universe through them. During that period I would look for opportunities to visualize myself allowing God to use me as a human vessel for allowing those around me to know that complete feeling of Love that is God. I believe that is one of the most important lessons that the spiritual teacher Jesus was attempting to share with us as he allowed us to know God through him.
These are three distinctly different periods during which I clearly knew different aspects of the lesson that I seemed to discover anew today. Why, then, can I not seem to remember it? Maybe more accurately, what causes me to forget? Most importantly, how can I assure that I do remember for more than days or months but for the rest of my life? Sometimes my spiritual learning feels like the movie "Groundhog Day," in which every day was just the same with no forward movement. I am ready to move on from spiritual stuckness.
I ended the "Living a Prayer" speech by saying there is a ribbon of love that connects all of us, heart to heart, around the world. The ribbon of love can be activated by each of us, but if any of us fails to do our part, a short circuit occurs which stops the flow of love. Whenever someone crosses my path, it is my responsibility to activate the flow of love. For years I've talked about being response-able, which implies being conscious of choosing the response I want to send into the world. I want to choose love. I want to have the force of love that is God reflected from me to everyone I meet.
Saturday, June 4, 2016
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.
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.
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.
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