A friend came over for dinner this evening. One of our favorite restaurateurs has opened a new place in my neighborhood. We walked down for a glass of wine to check the place out before coming back to "play in the kitchen": we both enjoy cooking.
To mark a landmark birthday for me a few years ago, the two of us took a meandering trip around Tuscany. It was probably my best trip ever, although I have to say that I did grow weary of tourist-laden "hill towns" after a couple of them. One day as we were driving in the countryside, we saw a sign for a town we hadn't heard of and which didn't show up on our map. We decided to check it out. It wasn't without tourists but more like dozens instead of thousands, and there were actually unique shops and restaurants. We found a little side street and wandered into the best dining experience of my life.
As a cook, when I have a great dish in a restaurant, I immediately make notes so I can try to reproduce it when I return. I believe our wild boar with chocolate, pine nuts, and aromatic spices and tagliatelle in white truffle sauce was the best mean I've ever had. (So good that I didn't even note the dessert, which is usually the focus of my attention.) I still have my hand-scribbled notes attempting to capture its essence for later experimentation.
There are cooks who could just walk into the kitchen with those ingredients and start creating. I am not one of them. I am good at following recipes, and I am better than average at taking a recipe and modifying it until it hardly resembles the original. But, I do need something with which to start. After years of searching, I finally found an adaptable recipe, and we played with it. We smelled lots of aromatic spices--mace, allspice, clove, nutmeg--to try to figure out which had probably been in the Italian version. We aren't there yet, but we are moving in the right direction.
I had promised to write for at least 15 minutes a day, but by the time we dined, watched a movie and my friend left, I was tired...and uninspired. Since my TV sabbatical last week, I haven't watched much, so I caught a favorite show on demand. I was still not feeling it.
I sat and prayed and meditated. I shared my intention to keep my commitment and to write something every day. By the time 18 minutes of meditation had passed, what was clearly on my mind was the phrase "90 percent is just showing up," inspired by Woody Allen's "80 percent of life is just showing up." Apparently, my guides think that showing up is more important than Allen did.
As I pondered the phrase, I realized that there are a lot of things in life that we commit to do, but when the time comes, we try to weasel out of our promises. We avoid. We put it off. We just don't show up. Keeping our commitments is foundational to integrity. A missed commitment creates a "pinprick in our integrity." The next day another pinprick. Next week another. Pretty soon, we have a "hole in our integrity the size of the one in the Titanic," as Lizzie in The Game Called Life said.
Today, I showed up to keep my commitment to write...and to protect my integrity.
Showing posts with label commitment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label commitment. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 11, 2017
Sunday, September 27, 2015
Fully in
Once again I find that similar messages surround me wherever I look. This time the message is about being "fully in" or completely "going for it." To mark the 200th anniversary of the founding of our church, the Bishop of Washington visited and preached today. She shared a story of a friend who had an opportunity to be influential at a national level, but to do so was going to require the person to be "fully in."
Her friend was uncomfortable with that because opportunities in her life had just seemed to float by, and the individual could hop on the boat, so to speak, as it was passing if she was interested. She'd really never needed to fully commit herself to something before. But this time, she felt it was important enough that she should be fully in.
Three days ago I coached a client who had been fully in during the application process for what would have been a nice promotion. She didn't get it. Now, another opportunity has come along. She is inclined to not get her hopes up again so that if she doesn't get the promotion, her hopes won't be dashed so terribly as they were last month. Yet, in our conversation, she identified several things she needs to do to be a good candidate that really require her to be fully in.
She is from the Christian tradition and we talked about being "lukewarm water." The book of Revelation in the Christian scriptures says, "I know your works, that you are neither cold not hot: I would that you were cold or hot. So then because you are lukewarm, and neither cold not hot, I will spew you out of my mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16.) By the end of the session, my client really "got" that she couldn't be successful unless she was fully in.
As I walked home after church, I kept playing with this. Be either hot or cold, but not lukewarm. The problem is, I have nothing that I can really get cranked up about enough to be "hot," and really nothing I am so indifferent to as to be "cold." There must be something, I thought.
Almost as I had that thought, I knew what I needed to be fully in about: in 1997 I "finished" a book, which I call Choice Point. I passionately marketed it for several years. About 50 people have read it, and most feel like it was important and different from anything else in the market. Repeatedly, the book met with rejections. One publisher returned it so quickly, that I couldn't believe that enough time had passed for the manuscript to reach the publisher and be returned.
When my business tanked, I was forced to push the book to the back burner. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. It has been a couple years since I got it out and reread it. The message is important, but the book is badly dated. It would require major rework/rewrite. I simply have no time or energy to do that.
Yet, today I knew the thing that I needed to be fully in about was Choice Point. I truly have to admit that over the last decade, I couldn't even say that I had even cranked up the temperature on my passion for the book to lukewarm. Totally cold. Not fully in. Not in at all.
I don't know when I will find the time to even read the book again, much less rewrite and update it. Yet, I know in my heart of hearts, that is what I must do.
My problem is not feeling fully in about anything. I believe that, like my coaching client, I have been wounded too many times when I was fully in, and I don't want to pain of disappointment again. Yet, I know, that this book deserves the light of day.
When I think about being fully in, the first thing that comes to my mind is when will I find time? I work very long hours, but I work those hours because of my commitment to my clients. What, I wonder, if I made my book as important as my clients. Somehow that feels like a false choice to me because my clients are living breathing humans who are often in pain, and my book is a stack of paper. But I know that my stack of paper could change lives, and it might even change the world.
Ten days ago, I took samurai training, and one of my take-aways was that I can't take care of others until I take care of myself. My soul is in Choice Point. Maybe I can't really take care of my clients until I take care of fully birthing this book into the world. I am not sure how I will make this happen, but I am confident that if I make a commitment to my intention to do so, it will happen.
Her friend was uncomfortable with that because opportunities in her life had just seemed to float by, and the individual could hop on the boat, so to speak, as it was passing if she was interested. She'd really never needed to fully commit herself to something before. But this time, she felt it was important enough that she should be fully in.
Three days ago I coached a client who had been fully in during the application process for what would have been a nice promotion. She didn't get it. Now, another opportunity has come along. She is inclined to not get her hopes up again so that if she doesn't get the promotion, her hopes won't be dashed so terribly as they were last month. Yet, in our conversation, she identified several things she needs to do to be a good candidate that really require her to be fully in.
She is from the Christian tradition and we talked about being "lukewarm water." The book of Revelation in the Christian scriptures says, "I know your works, that you are neither cold not hot: I would that you were cold or hot. So then because you are lukewarm, and neither cold not hot, I will spew you out of my mouth." (Revelation 3:15-16.) By the end of the session, my client really "got" that she couldn't be successful unless she was fully in.
As I walked home after church, I kept playing with this. Be either hot or cold, but not lukewarm. The problem is, I have nothing that I can really get cranked up about enough to be "hot," and really nothing I am so indifferent to as to be "cold." There must be something, I thought.
Almost as I had that thought, I knew what I needed to be fully in about: in 1997 I "finished" a book, which I call Choice Point. I passionately marketed it for several years. About 50 people have read it, and most feel like it was important and different from anything else in the market. Repeatedly, the book met with rejections. One publisher returned it so quickly, that I couldn't believe that enough time had passed for the manuscript to reach the publisher and be returned.
When my business tanked, I was forced to push the book to the back burner. Out of sight, but definitely not out of mind. It has been a couple years since I got it out and reread it. The message is important, but the book is badly dated. It would require major rework/rewrite. I simply have no time or energy to do that.
Yet, today I knew the thing that I needed to be fully in about was Choice Point. I truly have to admit that over the last decade, I couldn't even say that I had even cranked up the temperature on my passion for the book to lukewarm. Totally cold. Not fully in. Not in at all.
I don't know when I will find the time to even read the book again, much less rewrite and update it. Yet, I know in my heart of hearts, that is what I must do.
My problem is not feeling fully in about anything. I believe that, like my coaching client, I have been wounded too many times when I was fully in, and I don't want to pain of disappointment again. Yet, I know, that this book deserves the light of day.
When I think about being fully in, the first thing that comes to my mind is when will I find time? I work very long hours, but I work those hours because of my commitment to my clients. What, I wonder, if I made my book as important as my clients. Somehow that feels like a false choice to me because my clients are living breathing humans who are often in pain, and my book is a stack of paper. But I know that my stack of paper could change lives, and it might even change the world.
Ten days ago, I took samurai training, and one of my take-aways was that I can't take care of others until I take care of myself. My soul is in Choice Point. Maybe I can't really take care of my clients until I take care of fully birthing this book into the world. I am not sure how I will make this happen, but I am confident that if I make a commitment to my intention to do so, it will happen.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Ready for New Beginnings
I stopped making resolutions several years ago: they had almost become a joke. The gym would be packed the first week of January, quite busy the second, and by the third week, things would be pretty much back to normal, exemplifying the seriousness with which most people take their plans for the new year. By March, most people don't even remember what their resolutions even were. I rarely see much resolve in resolutions.
However, I also feel like it is my responsibility to become a more complete person. That isn't the work of a single day or night but of every day of the year. I set intentions--sign posts, if you will, for qualities that I want to bring into my life. Then, daily...or more frequently...I consciously ask myself what I should do that is aligned with all of my intentions. Every action is a choice point that is either aligned with my intentions or isn't.
I find New Year's to be a particularly good time to assess (see yesterday's post) how I am doing and to determine where I will bring more focus to my intentions in the year ahead. I generally take a few hours to meditate on my life on either New Year's Eve or New Year's Day. It was the result of such a meditation last year that brought me the six words that I wrote about yesterday: love, laughter, health, happiness, wealth, and wisdom.
I had been pondering what I should write that would help my readers bring more seriousness to their resolutions or intentions, when I heard a radio interview during my walk yesterday. The interview was with a man named Alex Sheen, who is founder of "Because I said I would." The focus of Sheen's work is that when we make promises, we should keep them. If we promise to quit smoking or lose 20 pounds in the new year, we should treat that as a serious promise. I like that concept.
One of the reasons that I am so meditative about my intentions is because for me they are commitments or promises. In The Game Called Life I wrote a whole chapter about commitment, which is aligned with "Because I said I would." Each day we make commitments, often without thinking about what we are committing to, whether we will keep them, or even what would be involved in keeping them. Many of them slide off into oblivion, like our New Year's resolutions.
Whether you call it a commitment or a promise, our ability to stay in integrity with what we say we will do is about who we are. If I make a promise or a commitment, I should consider it seriously beforehand. What will it require of me to keep the commitment? What will I have to give up in order to keep the commitment? Are there more important commitments that will be set aside in order to keep a less important one?
Keeping a commitment, no matter how small or large, is about our personal integrity. It says, "I am a person who can be counted on to do what I say I will do."
In less than an hour a new year will be upon us, and the new year presents a time for new beginnings. As I assess and reflect on the year ahead, I will look at commitments that I have broken in the year past...yes, even slipping back into sugar...again! I will consider thoughtfully what promises I am making to myself, and then I will set my intentions--promises I will keep--for the year ahead. This year instead of a commitment, I think I will consider the intentions I set as promised I am making to me--promises I want to be counted upon for keeping.
I am ready for new beginnings, but really it is just another day in which I have the opportunity to strengthen my integrity and become a more complete person. Happy New Year!
However, I also feel like it is my responsibility to become a more complete person. That isn't the work of a single day or night but of every day of the year. I set intentions--sign posts, if you will, for qualities that I want to bring into my life. Then, daily...or more frequently...I consciously ask myself what I should do that is aligned with all of my intentions. Every action is a choice point that is either aligned with my intentions or isn't.
I find New Year's to be a particularly good time to assess (see yesterday's post) how I am doing and to determine where I will bring more focus to my intentions in the year ahead. I generally take a few hours to meditate on my life on either New Year's Eve or New Year's Day. It was the result of such a meditation last year that brought me the six words that I wrote about yesterday: love, laughter, health, happiness, wealth, and wisdom.
I had been pondering what I should write that would help my readers bring more seriousness to their resolutions or intentions, when I heard a radio interview during my walk yesterday. The interview was with a man named Alex Sheen, who is founder of "Because I said I would." The focus of Sheen's work is that when we make promises, we should keep them. If we promise to quit smoking or lose 20 pounds in the new year, we should treat that as a serious promise. I like that concept.
One of the reasons that I am so meditative about my intentions is because for me they are commitments or promises. In The Game Called Life I wrote a whole chapter about commitment, which is aligned with "Because I said I would." Each day we make commitments, often without thinking about what we are committing to, whether we will keep them, or even what would be involved in keeping them. Many of them slide off into oblivion, like our New Year's resolutions.
Whether you call it a commitment or a promise, our ability to stay in integrity with what we say we will do is about who we are. If I make a promise or a commitment, I should consider it seriously beforehand. What will it require of me to keep the commitment? What will I have to give up in order to keep the commitment? Are there more important commitments that will be set aside in order to keep a less important one?
Keeping a commitment, no matter how small or large, is about our personal integrity. It says, "I am a person who can be counted on to do what I say I will do."
In less than an hour a new year will be upon us, and the new year presents a time for new beginnings. As I assess and reflect on the year ahead, I will look at commitments that I have broken in the year past...yes, even slipping back into sugar...again! I will consider thoughtfully what promises I am making to myself, and then I will set my intentions--promises I will keep--for the year ahead. This year instead of a commitment, I think I will consider the intentions I set as promised I am making to me--promises I want to be counted upon for keeping.
I am ready for new beginnings, but really it is just another day in which I have the opportunity to strengthen my integrity and become a more complete person. Happy New Year!
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Pinpricks in My Integrity
When the government closed on the first of October, I pledged that I was using my furlough to reboot my life. I was going to meditate, exercise, and write daily, and I was going to give up sugar. I've done well on the meditation, writing, and exercise (except for one very rainy day.) The sugar has been a real struggle. It's not that sugar is such a bad thing...for most people. For me, sugar is an addiction. Just a little bit and I have to have more: it controls me. It is a slippery slope.
A week ago I made and took a chocolate cake to another function, and I ate it when it was served. There have been other "little cheats." It is the 19th, and I made brownies. I will take them to a function I am attending tomorrow, but I knew when I decided to make them that I'd lick beaters and need to sample to make sure they tasted OK. I lied to myself. In The Game Called Life Lizzie called them pinpricks in her integrity--miniscule lies that we tell ourselves to justify other lies, and, as she continued to say, "I have enough pinpricks in my integrity that if they were all put together they would be as big as the hole in the Titanic."
I debated a friend once about whether it was out of integrity to exceed the speed limit, even if everyone else is driving five miles over the limit too. My argument was that when I applied for a driver's license, I had agreed to obey the laws of the state. That included driving the speed limit, even if almost everyone else was speeding.
Driving the speed limit is a no-brainer for me. I really attempt to act in integrity all the time. I even moved into a house once that already had cable connected, and the former owners had been getting cable service for years without paying for it. I knew it was stealing from the cable company to take the service without paying for it. I went to the cable company, explained the situation, and said I wanted to start paying for it. That was a no-brainer for me, too.
Integrity is the very most important thing to me, and I know that I have not always been in such deep integrity. Yet I really try. I've wrestled with my addiction to sugar for my integrity for years. I'd like to think we all have an Achilles heel--something that nags at us painfully. It really doesn't matter if everyone has something. What matters is that I keep my own commitment to myself.
When I cut the brownies up and put them in a container to take to my function, I started to hold back two, cut in half. I was going to put them in the freezer, and I would have four little desserts I could bring out. That is when I started thinking about the pinpricks in my integrity. I added a second tier to my potluck container and put the ones I was going to hold back in it. I am holding nothing back in this fight.
That brings me back to forgiveness. I slip...on sugar, and on other things. In each moment I face a choice point--a point in time when I am conscious, when I can forgive myself, and when I can start over--choosing to be in integrity. When I tune in to my heart, I know that being in that choice point and choosing consciously, whether it is a 100 times or a 1,000 or 10,000, is how I will galvanize my integrity.
A week ago I made and took a chocolate cake to another function, and I ate it when it was served. There have been other "little cheats." It is the 19th, and I made brownies. I will take them to a function I am attending tomorrow, but I knew when I decided to make them that I'd lick beaters and need to sample to make sure they tasted OK. I lied to myself. In The Game Called Life Lizzie called them pinpricks in her integrity--miniscule lies that we tell ourselves to justify other lies, and, as she continued to say, "I have enough pinpricks in my integrity that if they were all put together they would be as big as the hole in the Titanic."
I debated a friend once about whether it was out of integrity to exceed the speed limit, even if everyone else is driving five miles over the limit too. My argument was that when I applied for a driver's license, I had agreed to obey the laws of the state. That included driving the speed limit, even if almost everyone else was speeding.
Driving the speed limit is a no-brainer for me. I really attempt to act in integrity all the time. I even moved into a house once that already had cable connected, and the former owners had been getting cable service for years without paying for it. I knew it was stealing from the cable company to take the service without paying for it. I went to the cable company, explained the situation, and said I wanted to start paying for it. That was a no-brainer for me, too.
Integrity is the very most important thing to me, and I know that I have not always been in such deep integrity. Yet I really try. I've wrestled with my addiction to sugar for my integrity for years. I'd like to think we all have an Achilles heel--something that nags at us painfully. It really doesn't matter if everyone has something. What matters is that I keep my own commitment to myself.
When I cut the brownies up and put them in a container to take to my function, I started to hold back two, cut in half. I was going to put them in the freezer, and I would have four little desserts I could bring out. That is when I started thinking about the pinpricks in my integrity. I added a second tier to my potluck container and put the ones I was going to hold back in it. I am holding nothing back in this fight.
That brings me back to forgiveness. I slip...on sugar, and on other things. In each moment I face a choice point--a point in time when I am conscious, when I can forgive myself, and when I can start over--choosing to be in integrity. When I tune in to my heart, I know that being in that choice point and choosing consciously, whether it is a 100 times or a 1,000 or 10,000, is how I will galvanize my integrity.
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