Saturday I had a wonderful lazy afternoon with a dear friend. We lunched ever so slowly on my balcony, enjoying a little prosecco as we looked at some art photos she had developed and talked of both past and anticipated travel adventures. We luxuriated on a comfortably warm, late summer afternoon. We also spoke of challenges and deeper things.
Tonight I shared a bi-weekly call with another friend. For the first bit I was walking as we talked, and then I found a shady park bench and just enjoyed the conversation. We chatted of triumphs, challenges, and, aware of the coming Jewish New Year, of hopes for the year ahead.
One of the Seven Habits of Happiness in the class I just completed is "Relationships." The first habit we explored in the class, it is the one in which I feel the greatest void. I've truly pondered how I can fix that situation, but I can't resurrect family members that are no longer with us. When I've moved, although friends have said they would come and visit, each time only one has actually done that--one time. One of the prices I've paid for needing to start over again later in life by moving to a new city is that at a certain stage in life my contemporaries are solidly in long-term relationships. I have a few friends who are there occasionally, but the truth is that they are infrequent relationships.
These were the first times since my class that I spent time with friends. With each, I really savored our time together. While I often rush from one event in my life to another without really enjoying any of it, in these times I was present, totally in the moment, mindful, and grateful--all habits of happiness.
As a definite introvert, I more often than not go through life happily alone, but my class and time on Saturday heightened my awareness of how relationships enrich my life, so instead of slipping into church, participating in worship, and quietly slipping out the side door as I usually do, yesterday I made a point to introduce myself to a couple I hadn't seen or talked to before. Today, I went out of my way to talk with someone in my office that I usually just greet in passing.
I believe that my happiness boils down to holding myself accountable. Taking a class won't do it unless I act on what I have learned, and this week I've really learned how important relationships are. I am holding myself accountable for creating more of them.
Monday, August 17, 2015
Saturday, August 15, 2015
Remorse and Redemption
I just saw "Ricki and the Flash," Merryl Streep's new movie about a woman who abandons her three children and husband to pursue a career as a rock musician. Although Ricki attempts to put the family part of her life behind her, the hole in the center of her life gnaws at the edges of it, stealing her joy and capacity to love. In the end (no spoiler here) she is able to redeem herself.
During the 30-minute walk home from the movie the themes of remorse and redemption kept toying with me. I did a little research when I got home and kept bumping up against Khaled Hosseini's best selling novel The Kite Runner about the boy Amir who betrays his best friend Hassan. When his guilt gnaws at him, he attempts to assuage his pain with yet another duplicitous act.
Eventually, both Ricki and Amir find redemption and atonement. The word "atonement" has been broken to demonstrate its meaning as "at-onement." Atonement does imply a healing--a softening of the separation created by betrayal until we are able to be whole, both within ourselves and with the victim(s) of the act.
While I like to assuage my own guilt at pain I know I have caused by saying "I was doing the best I could with where I was at the time." But, is that enough? Twelve-step programs demand "making amends." In Amir's case, he is able to adopt Hassan's son after he has been orphaned. Ricki, too, finds a way to heal relationships. Neither can remove the pain caused, but each is able to bridge the gap caused by their acts.
As I walked this evening, I felt truly remorseful. I know that I haven't always been the easiest person to live with, and I have struggled with how to follow my heart without being selfish and hurtful of others in my life. I have the deepest regret at the pain I caused my ex-husband when I, not that much unlike Ricki except there were no children, moved across the country to pursue to dream to be an author, coach, and speaker. I also know that the same move really hurt my adopted parents with whom I was very close before they died.
I believe that remorse is the first step toward redemption, but atonement requires "making amends," and that is often much harder, especially if someone isn't still in my life or, as with mama and papa, have even passed away. I wish I could say I knew how to bridge the gulf that I've created, but I really don't know how. What I do know is that when my intention is clear, God will provide me the means to do what I need to do. All things considered, I guess that is really all I need to know.
During the 30-minute walk home from the movie the themes of remorse and redemption kept toying with me. I did a little research when I got home and kept bumping up against Khaled Hosseini's best selling novel The Kite Runner about the boy Amir who betrays his best friend Hassan. When his guilt gnaws at him, he attempts to assuage his pain with yet another duplicitous act.
Eventually, both Ricki and Amir find redemption and atonement. The word "atonement" has been broken to demonstrate its meaning as "at-onement." Atonement does imply a healing--a softening of the separation created by betrayal until we are able to be whole, both within ourselves and with the victim(s) of the act.
While I like to assuage my own guilt at pain I know I have caused by saying "I was doing the best I could with where I was at the time." But, is that enough? Twelve-step programs demand "making amends." In Amir's case, he is able to adopt Hassan's son after he has been orphaned. Ricki, too, finds a way to heal relationships. Neither can remove the pain caused, but each is able to bridge the gap caused by their acts.
As I walked this evening, I felt truly remorseful. I know that I haven't always been the easiest person to live with, and I have struggled with how to follow my heart without being selfish and hurtful of others in my life. I have the deepest regret at the pain I caused my ex-husband when I, not that much unlike Ricki except there were no children, moved across the country to pursue to dream to be an author, coach, and speaker. I also know that the same move really hurt my adopted parents with whom I was very close before they died.
I believe that remorse is the first step toward redemption, but atonement requires "making amends," and that is often much harder, especially if someone isn't still in my life or, as with mama and papa, have even passed away. I wish I could say I knew how to bridge the gulf that I've created, but I really don't know how. What I do know is that when my intention is clear, God will provide me the means to do what I need to do. All things considered, I guess that is really all I need to know.
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Micro-moments of Love
One of the greatest discoveries in my Psychology of Happiness class was a YouTube video, featuring Barbara Fredrickson, a dual professor in psychology and business at the University of North Carolina. Entitled "Love--A New Lens on Thriving,"* Fredrickson describes what happens to us physiologically when we love someone. She isn't necessarily talking about romantic love or "chemistry," but more universal love.
Not only does love make us feel better, i.e., have more positive emotions, but the health benefits are significant, ranging from the production of Mother Nature's feel-good chemical oxytocin, nicknamed the hormone of love, to deeper sleep, and reduced depression. Furthermore, it increases trust and resilience.
Not only does love make us feel better, i.e., have more positive emotions, but the health benefits are significant, ranging from the production of Mother Nature's feel-good chemical oxytocin, nicknamed the hormone of love, to deeper sleep, and reduced depression. Furthermore, it increases trust and resilience.
Among other research findings, Fredrickson reports that in as little as 10 minutes of loving kindness meditation a day over a three-month period we can change the vagal tone of the heart, something previously believed to be unchangeable. What occurs is that our heart slows on the exhale, actually producing a positive moment of warmth and love.
I wondered, exactly what is loving kindness meditation? I did a little research, and, while there are countless descriptions, quite simply put, it is thinking positive thoughts of love about the world around us and imagining those positive feelings flowing in and out of our hearts with the breath. (If there are authorities on loving kindness meditation out there cringing, please jump in on the conversation, but this is a three-line description, not a dissertation.) In 10 minutes of this practice a day, we can literally change our physiology in a positive way.
In the three weeks since I first watched the video, I've been practicing for 10 minutes a day, and I've discovered an amazing thing. Just by starting my day with the loving kindness meditation, I am able to "plug into" that wonderful positive, relaxed feeling at just the expression of intention during the day. Very cool stuff...when I am awake enough to realize I need to pull in the heavy duty love chemicals.
The second item of interest in the video that I will talk about has to do with creating connection. Eye contact and smiles have an amazing ability to evoke mimicry, whereby we unconsciously begin mirroring the other person which creates even more connection. (The technical term if bio-behavioral synchrony.) A virtuous cycle of connection leading to more connection to even more connection is perpetuated. We build escalating love and trust. As long as we feel safe we can generate "micro-moments of love" just by making connection--eye contact, smiles, touch, or voice.
I've been pondering The Grocery Store Game, which I've written about a number of times. (See the blog-post for December 1, 2013, "Could We Change The World in 30 Days?") The secret to the game was to make eye contact and really feel gratitude as the player says, "Thank you." I've played it many times, as have a number of my coaching clients. There can be a real and sincere connection made in a split second at a grocery store check stand. While Fredrickson spoke of connections with those we know, as I read about Fredrickson's micro-moments of love, I couldn't help but wonder, is that what is happening in The Grocery Store Game?
While the intention of The Grocery Store Game is to give a simple gift of gratitude to a stranger, it would seem that as we play it, the giver of gratitude is actually starting in motion many positive physical benefits for him/herself as well.
As I think about both my ability to "drop into" the feeling of loving kindness and generating micro-moments of love through connection, my belief in the ability of humankind to generate a "river of love" that connects all of us is renewed. That we might be healthier because we have is an added benefit.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxoPLtRnxZs
I wondered, exactly what is loving kindness meditation? I did a little research, and, while there are countless descriptions, quite simply put, it is thinking positive thoughts of love about the world around us and imagining those positive feelings flowing in and out of our hearts with the breath. (If there are authorities on loving kindness meditation out there cringing, please jump in on the conversation, but this is a three-line description, not a dissertation.) In 10 minutes of this practice a day, we can literally change our physiology in a positive way.
In the three weeks since I first watched the video, I've been practicing for 10 minutes a day, and I've discovered an amazing thing. Just by starting my day with the loving kindness meditation, I am able to "plug into" that wonderful positive, relaxed feeling at just the expression of intention during the day. Very cool stuff...when I am awake enough to realize I need to pull in the heavy duty love chemicals.
The second item of interest in the video that I will talk about has to do with creating connection. Eye contact and smiles have an amazing ability to evoke mimicry, whereby we unconsciously begin mirroring the other person which creates even more connection. (The technical term if bio-behavioral synchrony.) A virtuous cycle of connection leading to more connection to even more connection is perpetuated. We build escalating love and trust. As long as we feel safe we can generate "micro-moments of love" just by making connection--eye contact, smiles, touch, or voice.
I've been pondering The Grocery Store Game, which I've written about a number of times. (See the blog-post for December 1, 2013, "Could We Change The World in 30 Days?") The secret to the game was to make eye contact and really feel gratitude as the player says, "Thank you." I've played it many times, as have a number of my coaching clients. There can be a real and sincere connection made in a split second at a grocery store check stand. While Fredrickson spoke of connections with those we know, as I read about Fredrickson's micro-moments of love, I couldn't help but wonder, is that what is happening in The Grocery Store Game?
While the intention of The Grocery Store Game is to give a simple gift of gratitude to a stranger, it would seem that as we play it, the giver of gratitude is actually starting in motion many positive physical benefits for him/herself as well.
As I think about both my ability to "drop into" the feeling of loving kindness and generating micro-moments of love through connection, my belief in the ability of humankind to generate a "river of love" that connects all of us is renewed. That we might be healthier because we have is an added benefit.
*https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZxoPLtRnxZs
Saturday, August 8, 2015
Housecleaning
I have just finished a fast-paced course on the Psychology of Happiness. There was a lot of writing and even more reading, as well as participation in online class forums. While I have definitely just done a major sigh of relief, I will miss some of the fruitful conversations (and consequent personal insights) that I've had with my classmates. Not much of content was new to me but the self-discoveries along the way were invaluable.
There was a twice a year ritual that I experienced while growing up in the Midwest: housecleaning. We cleaned more than twice a year, but the fall and spring housecleaning was different. Literally everything in the house was turned over and cleaned. Windows were washed. Drawers were emptied, sorted to dispose of things that had outlived their usefulness or size, and reordered. More than just cleaning, the ritual was cleaning out.
For a few years in my adulthood, I continued the ritual, but gradually it went from twice a year to once a year. First the windows were dropped off. Then the cleaning out the drawers fell away. Gradually, the ritual just disappeared. Even on my way-too-frequent moves, I seemed not to find the time or priority to clean out.
As my class has been drawing to an end, I've felt myself itching to clean out. That may at least be in part due to the fact that stacks of reading materials and outlines for essays have overtaken my small desk. A second computer that is still not been completely replaced by the new one, and related technology items, add to the disarray as does an inappropriate gift I received a few months ago and haven't quite known what to do with. I've wished I could just push it all into a waste bin and make it go away, but I know things of value lurk in the piles. I think that has just been symbolic of what has been going on inside of me as this class is drawing to a close.
I've been feeling the need to psychologically and spiritual clean out as well. After 14 years of serious financial struggle since the failure of my business, I am finally to a place where I can let my shoulders drop a bit. After five years of the most dysfunctional work environment that I've ever witnessed in 25 years of consulting with organizations, three layers of management above me have either been removed or quit in the last months. While we are now at about half-staff, and a crushing workload faces me daily as far as I can see, I can find potential that new leadership may bring. Hope is on the horizon.
All that leads me to have discovered in these three weeks that I've been in serious fight-or-flight mode for years. For so long, that it has become habitual. While the content of the class has not been anything I didn't know or even anything that I didn't practice for years, it has helped me re-member who I am. I say re-member because it feels like part of myself was put on a shelf and forgotten. If this class hasn't helped me pull it off the shelf and reintegrate it completely, at the very least I have it in my hands--all of me in my hands.
The cleaning out that I really feel the need for right now is getting rid of all the habits and behaviors that came with the fight-or-flight so that I literally have room to breathe again. And, the funny thing is that I also think I want to actually clean out, not just metaphorically.
The myth of Psyche demonstrates that the role of women is to sort, pick out what is useful and what has outlived it usefulness. I think my sorting muscles have atrophied, and physically cleaning my desk, files, closet, and pantry will help me get them in shape for the spiritual sorting I am beginning. While I might like to treat my psyche like my desk and make all the clutter just go away, I know that good stuff is buried in there that I don't want to lose. So, sort I will.
There was a twice a year ritual that I experienced while growing up in the Midwest: housecleaning. We cleaned more than twice a year, but the fall and spring housecleaning was different. Literally everything in the house was turned over and cleaned. Windows were washed. Drawers were emptied, sorted to dispose of things that had outlived their usefulness or size, and reordered. More than just cleaning, the ritual was cleaning out.
For a few years in my adulthood, I continued the ritual, but gradually it went from twice a year to once a year. First the windows were dropped off. Then the cleaning out the drawers fell away. Gradually, the ritual just disappeared. Even on my way-too-frequent moves, I seemed not to find the time or priority to clean out.
As my class has been drawing to an end, I've felt myself itching to clean out. That may at least be in part due to the fact that stacks of reading materials and outlines for essays have overtaken my small desk. A second computer that is still not been completely replaced by the new one, and related technology items, add to the disarray as does an inappropriate gift I received a few months ago and haven't quite known what to do with. I've wished I could just push it all into a waste bin and make it go away, but I know things of value lurk in the piles. I think that has just been symbolic of what has been going on inside of me as this class is drawing to a close.
I've been feeling the need to psychologically and spiritual clean out as well. After 14 years of serious financial struggle since the failure of my business, I am finally to a place where I can let my shoulders drop a bit. After five years of the most dysfunctional work environment that I've ever witnessed in 25 years of consulting with organizations, three layers of management above me have either been removed or quit in the last months. While we are now at about half-staff, and a crushing workload faces me daily as far as I can see, I can find potential that new leadership may bring. Hope is on the horizon.
All that leads me to have discovered in these three weeks that I've been in serious fight-or-flight mode for years. For so long, that it has become habitual. While the content of the class has not been anything I didn't know or even anything that I didn't practice for years, it has helped me re-member who I am. I say re-member because it feels like part of myself was put on a shelf and forgotten. If this class hasn't helped me pull it off the shelf and reintegrate it completely, at the very least I have it in my hands--all of me in my hands.
The cleaning out that I really feel the need for right now is getting rid of all the habits and behaviors that came with the fight-or-flight so that I literally have room to breathe again. And, the funny thing is that I also think I want to actually clean out, not just metaphorically.
The myth of Psyche demonstrates that the role of women is to sort, pick out what is useful and what has outlived it usefulness. I think my sorting muscles have atrophied, and physically cleaning my desk, files, closet, and pantry will help me get them in shape for the spiritual sorting I am beginning. While I might like to treat my psyche like my desk and make all the clutter just go away, I know that good stuff is buried in there that I don't want to lose. So, sort I will.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Bisy Backson
My course reading for yesterday included Benjamin Hoff's the Tao of Pooh. When I picked the book up after class, I was on the chapter, "Bisy Backson." Bisy Backson is a character named for the expression, "Busy--Back Soon." Bisy, it seems, frenetically dashes through life, first in one direction and then another. When Bisy exercises, the intent is to force fitness, as opposed to allowing it to develop naturally from the inside. Bisy reminded me a lot of myself.
Thirty years ago a friend described me as being like a mosquito on speed. He could have as easily described me a Bisy Backson. For 15 of those 30 years, I mellowed out, mindfully and joyfully going through life. What happened? Life is part of it. Part of it is having an employer instead of being self-employed, but those years have also occurred in a time when employers behave as if they own the people who work for them instead of renting them for 8-9 hours a day. In my world, you haven't done anything special until you've put in 12 hours a day, and even then, it must be persistent. (What have you done for me lately?)
Still another part is living in a larger city, which I love for many things it has to offer, but also fully recognize life in the city is much faster paced. There's so much to do, and I want to make up for all those years living in small cities and do it all. Finally, our devices keep us connected and multi-tasking 24x7. (Understand that I would not want to give up my devices either.)
My class yesterday really heightened my awareness of how the level of mindfulness that used to pervade me had evaporated. Through the late afternoon and evening, I was increasingly aware of my racing about. I even noticed the tension in my shoulders as I brushed my teeth, as if the two minutes on my brush timer would go any faster if I was tense than if I just relaxed and enjoyed it.
The three scripture readings in church this morning, one from the Old Testament book of 2 Samuel, one from the epistles of the New Testament, and the third from the Gospel of Mark, all had to do with God being at home in us. The Assistant Rector's comments addressed the need for us to provide an appropriate "home" for God within us.
Oy! OMG! Eek! I experienced physical pain in my heart when I thought about God being in me, and I really believe that God does dwell in each of us. I wouldn't think of having guests in my bricks and mortar home with such chaos. I go out of my way to have peace and order--to provide a warm and welcoming place of refuge for my guests from such freneticism. I prepare favorite foods or pick up special treats. I want my guests to feel how special they are to me.
Yet, I clearly am not making nearly so fostering environment for God as I make for my human friends. The visual that came to my mind was that God would be trying like crazy to escape my body. When I thought what it would be like to be trapped in my body, I imagined God being thrashed about in several directions as I chaotically went one way and then the other, constrained by the tension in my body and hardly taking time to breathe--literally.
Why would God want to be at home in my body? Could this be why, after feeling God's presence so intently for so long, that I've frequently felt so disconnected in the last dozen years? I want to put Bisy Backson to rest, but that allows me to get off without being accountable. Bisy needs nurturing of the kind that I've been unwilling to give myself. To put Bisy to rest allows me to continue mindlessly thrashing about with the consciousness of Bisy put out to pasture. Can I even find it in me anymore to mindfully love the person who lovingly builds a safe, sane and tranquil refuge for God in me?
Even though I am only a day into the class, it seems to me that the Seven Habits of Happiness are so inter-related that doing one really well will accomplish doing them all.
Thirty years ago a friend described me as being like a mosquito on speed. He could have as easily described me a Bisy Backson. For 15 of those 30 years, I mellowed out, mindfully and joyfully going through life. What happened? Life is part of it. Part of it is having an employer instead of being self-employed, but those years have also occurred in a time when employers behave as if they own the people who work for them instead of renting them for 8-9 hours a day. In my world, you haven't done anything special until you've put in 12 hours a day, and even then, it must be persistent. (What have you done for me lately?)
Still another part is living in a larger city, which I love for many things it has to offer, but also fully recognize life in the city is much faster paced. There's so much to do, and I want to make up for all those years living in small cities and do it all. Finally, our devices keep us connected and multi-tasking 24x7. (Understand that I would not want to give up my devices either.)
My class yesterday really heightened my awareness of how the level of mindfulness that used to pervade me had evaporated. Through the late afternoon and evening, I was increasingly aware of my racing about. I even noticed the tension in my shoulders as I brushed my teeth, as if the two minutes on my brush timer would go any faster if I was tense than if I just relaxed and enjoyed it.
The three scripture readings in church this morning, one from the Old Testament book of 2 Samuel, one from the epistles of the New Testament, and the third from the Gospel of Mark, all had to do with God being at home in us. The Assistant Rector's comments addressed the need for us to provide an appropriate "home" for God within us.
Oy! OMG! Eek! I experienced physical pain in my heart when I thought about God being in me, and I really believe that God does dwell in each of us. I wouldn't think of having guests in my bricks and mortar home with such chaos. I go out of my way to have peace and order--to provide a warm and welcoming place of refuge for my guests from such freneticism. I prepare favorite foods or pick up special treats. I want my guests to feel how special they are to me.
Yet, I clearly am not making nearly so fostering environment for God as I make for my human friends. The visual that came to my mind was that God would be trying like crazy to escape my body. When I thought what it would be like to be trapped in my body, I imagined God being thrashed about in several directions as I chaotically went one way and then the other, constrained by the tension in my body and hardly taking time to breathe--literally.
Why would God want to be at home in my body? Could this be why, after feeling God's presence so intently for so long, that I've frequently felt so disconnected in the last dozen years? I want to put Bisy Backson to rest, but that allows me to get off without being accountable. Bisy needs nurturing of the kind that I've been unwilling to give myself. To put Bisy to rest allows me to continue mindlessly thrashing about with the consciousness of Bisy put out to pasture. Can I even find it in me anymore to mindfully love the person who lovingly builds a safe, sane and tranquil refuge for God in me?
Even though I am only a day into the class, it seems to me that the Seven Habits of Happiness are so inter-related that doing one really well will accomplish doing them all.
Saturday, July 18, 2015
The First Day of Class
As a youngster, I always looked forward to the start of school, and my first encounter with insomnia came the night before the first day of school. I'd be so excited that I couldn't possibly go to sleep. Not much has changed for me. Today was the first day of my Psychology of Happiness class. While I did sleep last night, I was just as excited. My passion for learning sparked yet again. Up earlier than usual this morning, I completed my chores had been completed 90 minutes before the start of class. I was eager and waiting.
There are so many ways that I am grateful for this class, and I'm particularly happy that I delayed my March start of this class until this group. As we did our class introductions, almost ever one of us spoke of "resilience" as the trait that we are most proud of, and all of us shared that we'd had to overcome major, multiple, and even recurring challenges in life. About two-thirds of the way through introductions, one of my new classmates said we must all be related--from the same family. We are certainly kindred spirits, who seemed to bond almost immediately.
Like many first classes, this one started with a high-level overview, and we will drill down into each topic as the course proceeds. For this class, the overview revealed "Seven Habits of Happiness":
There are so many ways that I am grateful for this class, and I'm particularly happy that I delayed my March start of this class until this group. As we did our class introductions, almost ever one of us spoke of "resilience" as the trait that we are most proud of, and all of us shared that we'd had to overcome major, multiple, and even recurring challenges in life. About two-thirds of the way through introductions, one of my new classmates said we must all be related--from the same family. We are certainly kindred spirits, who seemed to bond almost immediately.
Like many first classes, this one started with a high-level overview, and we will drill down into each topic as the course proceeds. For this class, the overview revealed "Seven Habits of Happiness":
- Quality relationships
- Caring & acts of kindness
- Physical health
- Flow
- Character strengths & virtues
- Spiritual engagement
- Positive Mindset
Even though this was the survey class, I immediately recognized how these seven topics and the characteristics within each splendidly tied together many aspects of life with which I've struggled. We were asked to pick one of these to focus on for the duration of the class. Intuitively, I knew "physical health" was the one for me. As frequent readers will recall, I've struggled with allowing work to squeeze exercise out of my daily routine, and I've wrestled with my sugar addiction. My desire to be present significantly impacts several aspects of my health. Doing my physical therapy exercises daily greatly influences the level of pain with which I live.
As my day began to wind down, I reflected on this list of happiness habits, and I thought about how powerful my intention is when I really put my mind to something, most certainly the foundation of my resilience. I knew specific things that I want to do for each of the areas, except "Flow."
I know "flow" well: it is that state in which we are having so much joy with what we are doing that we lose track of time and consciousness. It requires a high skill level and equally high challenge. Flow requires that we really care about what we are doing. The possibility to "win" must be present.
The place in my life in which I am most predictably in "flow" is when I write. When writing Leading from the Heart, I would often find that it was getting dark outside on long summer days when I began to get tired, the first experience I'd had of being conscious since sitting down to write, maybe 8 to 10 hours earlier. I wouldn't eat, drink, or go to the bathroom, not due to deprivation, but because I was really out of my body and unable to experience the signs of bodily needs.
Similarly, I recall one day when writing The Game Called Life, a book that I finished in five days, I actually wrote 32 pages in one day. With my conscious logical mind, I have absolutely no concept how I did that, but I truly surrendered to my flow state.
I've experienced flow in other places in my life--when gardening, when dancing, occasionally when cooking, often when coaching, and sometimes when working on designs for my organization development (OD) work. Currently, I am encountering impediments to the flow state in most of these areas of my life. The northern exposure of my balcony garden makes "winning" almost impossible. (My neighbor warned me, but hope springs eternal.) I rarely have a dance partner any more who challenges me. My OD design work is often not challenging, and when it is, there are so many interruptions that getting to that place where I lose consciousness is impossible.
Lest you think this is a lot of grumbling and complaining, it is not. In my heart of hearts, I know that I can experience flow every single day just by choosing it. Every time I write this blog, I fall into a flow state. Yet, with increasing frequency, I have chosen to let the demands of longer and longer days on the job push writing out of my day. A week ago, I had a really good idea for a post and even wrote myself a note so I wouldn't lose the thought. By the time that I found energy to write Thursday evening, I sat staring at the note with no recollection at all of my earlier inspiration.
I have no illusions that taking this class will transform all of my bad habits, or that I will miraculously find the energy and will to write at the end of a 12-hour day. However, there is one thing about intention about which I have become very clear: it is like target practice. If I miss the bulls-eye, I aim again and give it another shot. Over time, I become more and more consistent at reaching my intention. There are aspects of my life that 30 years ago I would have been shocked to learn that I now do quite consistently. My hope is that looking back to 2015 in another 25 or 30 years, I will see that the things with which I struggle today have become happy habits in my life.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Friendships
My staycation has ended up being a raincation. This June was the wetest June in Washington history by three inches, and the downpours didn't even hiccup moving into July. We are not talking drizzle here, but serious rain. Last Sunday delivered two inches in one day. So much for lingering over a light read by the pool, hiking, and biking in the park.
With that said, I've luxuriated over books that I've wanted to get into and have finally been able, as well as doing spot reading in other books. At the first of each month, I used to faithfully visit LifeCycles by Christine Delorey, a wonderful introduction to numerology and the spiritual lessons that await us each month. The pace of my life has been such that when I picked up LifeCycles at the beginning of this month, I realized I hadn't opened it since last fall.
Much of my growth in the month of July is about friendships, and as I read Delorey's words, I found them quite moving. "Friends will be friends no matter what," she said, "separated by thousands of miles and lifetimes of years. The bonds of real friendship cannot be broken." (p. 195)
She continued, "Take a hard look at those you call friends and ask, is that how you feel about them."
The words and the meditation that followed set me into a reverie about friendships, several of which are "...separated by thousands of miles." I am sure that I am not the only one who has had someone walk into my life, and I knew within minutes that we would be fast friends for the rest of our lives. My college roommate Donna immediately comes to mind. It is funny to think that we actually only lived together about four months, but she is among my dearest friends in the world. Now separated by 500 miles, each time we are together, we always pick up as if we'd been together yesterday, even when it has often been years.
There have often been parallels in our lives during the times when we haven't been communicating regularly, and we've sometimes laughed as we've shared our similar tales. At times it feels like God put us here as one and then split us apart, yet somehow we've remained magically connected.
Another is my friend Amy who is 2400 miles across the country. I met her on an elevator at a conference in Mexico almost 20 years ago, when she recognized my name on my name badge. She had just read Leading from the Heart, which had hardly hit the market. Before the conference ended, the bonds of friendship were sealed. A few months later when she came to visit a cousin near Washington, we rendezvoused at her home for almost 24 hours of non-stop talking.
Although we've had some lapses, we have talked every week or every other week for much of the 20 years in between. I feel like I know her better than a sister, even though we have only met face to face once or twice more since. (Through the modern miracle of Skype, we now see each other on our every-other-week calls.)
I recall meeting a professional colleague for a networking coffee when I first came to Washington. We met at 1 p.m., and, when we got up to leave, I thought there was something wrong with my watch, which showed almost 5 p.m. We were both shocked. Time had truly stood still.
There really are a small handful of people, some now gone from the world, who are/were instant and continuous friends. If there is any justice, we will continue together in other lifetimes. However, in my reverie this week I recalled Delorey's other admonition, "Take a hard look at those you call friends and ask, is that how you feel about them."
Leading from the Heart came out during my first full year living in North Carolina. I recall thinking how well I'd done at making friends...until the bottom fell out of my consulting/coaching/speaking business in the dot.com bust. Then I discovered most were fair-weather friends. The people that I still count as NC friends either didn't know I had written books, I met after things had unwound, or I met on the dance floor.
A number of times during those years, I recalled a client I'd had in Oregon who shared that he had been a millionaire and then lost it all. When he had to file for bankruptcy, most of his friends and his much younger wife deserted him.
How do we know? While I think Delorey is correct that every now and then we need to take a hard look at people we claim as friends. Yet, I would not want to be one who guards herself from potential friends for fear of being deserted when the waters of life are rough. In that way, I might not have let Donna or Amy in, and what a loss that would have been; I hope for all of us.
Friendships are a bit like investments. We never really know when we will strike gold, but if we don't take the risk, we will always lose. I will continue to risk having the grace of special friends showered on me.
With that said, I've luxuriated over books that I've wanted to get into and have finally been able, as well as doing spot reading in other books. At the first of each month, I used to faithfully visit LifeCycles by Christine Delorey, a wonderful introduction to numerology and the spiritual lessons that await us each month. The pace of my life has been such that when I picked up LifeCycles at the beginning of this month, I realized I hadn't opened it since last fall.
Much of my growth in the month of July is about friendships, and as I read Delorey's words, I found them quite moving. "Friends will be friends no matter what," she said, "separated by thousands of miles and lifetimes of years. The bonds of real friendship cannot be broken." (p. 195)
She continued, "Take a hard look at those you call friends and ask, is that how you feel about them."
The words and the meditation that followed set me into a reverie about friendships, several of which are "...separated by thousands of miles." I am sure that I am not the only one who has had someone walk into my life, and I knew within minutes that we would be fast friends for the rest of our lives. My college roommate Donna immediately comes to mind. It is funny to think that we actually only lived together about four months, but she is among my dearest friends in the world. Now separated by 500 miles, each time we are together, we always pick up as if we'd been together yesterday, even when it has often been years.
There have often been parallels in our lives during the times when we haven't been communicating regularly, and we've sometimes laughed as we've shared our similar tales. At times it feels like God put us here as one and then split us apart, yet somehow we've remained magically connected.
Another is my friend Amy who is 2400 miles across the country. I met her on an elevator at a conference in Mexico almost 20 years ago, when she recognized my name on my name badge. She had just read Leading from the Heart, which had hardly hit the market. Before the conference ended, the bonds of friendship were sealed. A few months later when she came to visit a cousin near Washington, we rendezvoused at her home for almost 24 hours of non-stop talking.
Although we've had some lapses, we have talked every week or every other week for much of the 20 years in between. I feel like I know her better than a sister, even though we have only met face to face once or twice more since. (Through the modern miracle of Skype, we now see each other on our every-other-week calls.)
I recall meeting a professional colleague for a networking coffee when I first came to Washington. We met at 1 p.m., and, when we got up to leave, I thought there was something wrong with my watch, which showed almost 5 p.m. We were both shocked. Time had truly stood still.
There really are a small handful of people, some now gone from the world, who are/were instant and continuous friends. If there is any justice, we will continue together in other lifetimes. However, in my reverie this week I recalled Delorey's other admonition, "Take a hard look at those you call friends and ask, is that how you feel about them."
Leading from the Heart came out during my first full year living in North Carolina. I recall thinking how well I'd done at making friends...until the bottom fell out of my consulting/coaching/speaking business in the dot.com bust. Then I discovered most were fair-weather friends. The people that I still count as NC friends either didn't know I had written books, I met after things had unwound, or I met on the dance floor.
A number of times during those years, I recalled a client I'd had in Oregon who shared that he had been a millionaire and then lost it all. When he had to file for bankruptcy, most of his friends and his much younger wife deserted him.
How do we know? While I think Delorey is correct that every now and then we need to take a hard look at people we claim as friends. Yet, I would not want to be one who guards herself from potential friends for fear of being deserted when the waters of life are rough. In that way, I might not have let Donna or Amy in, and what a loss that would have been; I hope for all of us.
Friendships are a bit like investments. We never really know when we will strike gold, but if we don't take the risk, we will always lose. I will continue to risk having the grace of special friends showered on me.
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