Truly Powerful People (349)

Posted on February 23, 2012 by

349.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Tayna and I were talking about trust. Not just any brand of trust but the kind that becomes necessary when that still small voice inside prompts you to leave the nest, to step to the edge of your comfort zone and jump. It’s the voice that comes at the start of a new chapter in your story. It is the voice that knocks you off balance.

We’ve all been there. We all have that voice. We generally avoid the voice, deny it, question it, shout it down, talk over it, and debate it to a draw even as we sit in the nest knowing that the jump is inevitable. Deep down we know the caterpillar time is over and something unimaginable beckons. We don’t know what it is. We DO know that the nest is comfortable and the voice is asking the impossible. Who in their right mind would jump?

That is precisely the point. If you listened to your right mind all the time you’d stay in the nest forever. The intellect is great at explaining “why” but has no facility for asking “why not.” Growth never makes sense. Ask Frodo. Better yet, ask Bilbo. At the end of life he, like the rest of us, talks about the jumps, the senseless choices that at the time looked like “risk.” At the end of the day we come to realize that the risk was never in the jumping, but in the vital life missed by ignoring the voice’s call.

The voice comes when you are on the right path. The outward actions might seem terrifying, destructive, counter productive, and downright stupid. And, it’s the right path. Learning to trust that intuitive voice – stepping to edge of the nest and looking over BECAUSE it makes no sense – is what makes us human. That’s where the growth happens. We come alive when we entertain the “What if…?”

In a fit of metaphor Tayna chortled, “I mean, think about it: the ugly bulb I planted in the ground doesn’t know what it’s doing, it just does it. It trusts and reaches for something absolutely unknowable and this amazing flower emerges.” It’s not difficult to imagine being the ugly bulb. In this metaphor, reaching for the unknowable is simply what we do and I think that is apt. We must reach for the unknowable just as we must wrap a story of destruction around the impulse to reach. Safety is a big deal for us ugly bulbs. The story of destruction is good for piquing curiosity and curiosity trumps safety almost every time. Also, the flower remembers the story of ugly-bulb-doubt, in fact, the flower is made possible and all the more sweet by the doubt that propelled it forward. That’s how we ugly bulbs learn to trust that nagging still-small-voice: we take the scary step certain that we will not survive, have an adventure, and come out better for it.

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Truly Powerful People (348)

Posted on February 22, 2012 by

348.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

For the past few months I’ve been having a blast creating and offering two classes. In truth, they are related cycles, aspects of story, processes that I initially understood as paths to creative freedom. Lately I’ve come to understand the cycles as a path to presence – I think all creative processes are attempts at presence. To me, artistry is primarily a way of being. It is how we make ourselves available to the world. Artistry is not something we do; it is how we are when we are doing it.

In a fit of anti-inspiration, I’ve named the cycles Bring Power To Life & Bring Power To Life (2). New names will be coming down the pike and I am open to suggestion.

The first cycle I understand as preparing the soil. It is a process designed to clear the debris from your story, see clearly and enrich your ground truth. It is impossible to close the gap between your espoused and lived values until you see the gap. In metaphor, the wasteland is the vast space between what we espouse and what we live. The first cycle, the ground truth, is an exploration of 6 relationships: Control, Choice, Intention, Motivation, Seeing, and Ownership. Working with these relationships closes the gap and clears the crap (or better, uses the crap to enrich the ground truth). The garden thrives, the grail castle reappears when the armor comes off, when the abstracts fall away and the gap closes between what you say and how you act; you have new relationships with control, choice, intention, motivation, seeing, and ownership.

Once the soil is prepared, once the gap begins to close, creative freedom and presence are available. They are the harvest of a well-prepared garden. They are the harvest of an intentional story. This is the how the second cycle dances with the first:
Changing your relationship with Control opens the channel to Creativity
Changing your relationship with Choice opens the channel to Opportunity
Changing your relationship with Intention opens the channel to Flow
Changing your relationship with Motivation opens the channel to Ease
Changing your relationship with Seeing opens the channel to Relationship
Changing your relationship with Ownership opens the channel to Presence

Spiritual practices would call this “alignment.” The cycles are universal as our life stories are universal. The details may be different, the cultural lens might be unique, but the arc is the same.

(for more information on the cycles, visit my site: www.trulypowerful.com)

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Truly Powerful People (347)

Posted on February 21, 2012 by

347.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

I am sitting in a café and have created an unintentional spectacle. My café table is covered with index cards and on each card written in bold black marker is a phrase like Default Story, Label Libel, Naming, Left Hand Path, Locate Yourself. I’ve been at it for some time now and the floor around my table is covered, too. I’ve unconsciously created a concept nest, an index card snowstorm and I am the diligent bird scribbling at its center.

I stop adding to the nest when I realize people are staring at me. Standing at the edge of my nest are three tiny people, children with faces pink from exhilaration and cold weather. The smallest of the pack still wears a stocking cap cocked rakishly to one side. The others tout hair explosions from hats recently removed. I’m not sure how they came to my nest but they are captivated by my index card snowstorm. Beyond the children, the stare-layer is populated by parents; they are captivated by the sudden stillness of their children. Or, they fear that I am dangerous and are trying to determine whether they need to grab their children and run. Or both. Then there is everyone else staring because they are aware that others in the café are staring. Even the baristas are staring.

I contemplate roaring like a lion or falling off my chair like I’ve just been shot but I don’t want to scare the kids. Instead I say hello and ask them if they want some index cards. In truth, I’m asking the parents and I see them visibly relax. They smile and I smile. Now it is a game. The parents encourage their munchkins as if my index cards are magic or diamonds or the coolest thing on the planet: candy. I pretend that I am stuck in my nest and reach to give them some cards. They must reach into the nest to take them and this makes them squeal with delight. The one with the rakish hat steps boldly onto my nest and her parents begin to screech in horror but I reassure them that munchkin footprints are greatly valued in my world. Like a soccer team that just scored the winning goal the children accept the index cards and in high celebration race back to the safety of their parents. Crayons spill from purses and the crew begins creating a nest of their own.

The spell is broken. The café lapses back into chatter, latte steam, the clatter of dishes, and markers and crayons busy inventing new worlds.

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Truly Powerful People (346)

Posted on February 20, 2012 by

346.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

June, like most of us, is exasperated with congress and the political process in general. At lunch the other day she went on a rant about private money corroding and corrupting politicians, short term thinking causing long-term damage, wealth extraction strategies employed by the banks with the collusion of our public officials, the refusal of the justice department to prosecute the architects of the 2008 economic meltdown, and the lack of compromise in a two party system functiaonally designed for compromise. June is a fiery red head who actually turns the color of fire when she goes on a rant so I sat very still and watched the fire burn. “I know,” I said, nodding in agreement. “It’s awful,” I said.

Out of all good fiery crucibles, new ideas are forged. June said, in a fit of exasperation, “I ought to send my 92 year old mother to congress! She’d tell them what’s what and put an end to the stupidity!” It was such a good idea that it broke the spell of the rant and we laughed. What a great idea!

What if we sent our grandmothers to Washington to tell our elected leaders to cut it out? Behave. Play nice. What if the senate floor was invaded by a wave of sensible shoes, support stocking, floral print house-dresses and common sense? What if a wall of grandmothers stood between Washington and Wall Street?

Both of my grandmothers were short but I would not dare cross them; they saw through my lies, illusions and bogus arguments every time. Grandmothers can see through the nonsense and they aren’t afraid to call it out when they see it. “What are you thinking, boy? Do you have a fever or did you hit your head? I know you’re not that stupid!” Isn’t that the voice we are missing in our political debate? Aren’t those the eyes we want minding the financial gluttony? I was careful to be honest and respectful in their presence. I made different choices when I knew they were watching – and they were always watching. Wouldn’t our elected officials do the same? Can you imagine what our grandmothers and elderly mothers might do in a congressional session in which the members were debating whether pizza was a vegetable or not? After they wiped the tears of laughter from their eyes they’d send congress outside to play. “Go waste your time outside,” they’d chortle, “At least you’ll get some fresh air.”

I gave my grandmother my chair when she came into the room – it was expected of me – and I hope members of congress would do the same. As the wave of grey haired feminine wisdom poured into those hallowed chambers, I imagine all the expensive suits standing, “Please, take my chair.” Once the grandmothers were comfortably seated, they’d say to the now polite boys and girls, “Now, what’s this nonsense about health care (or taxes or political contributions,…)? Why can’t you youngsters get along? Lord, you’ve made a mess of things!”

The view at the end of life is much different than the view from the middle. The priorities change. When the end of life is in sight, the view of the pie is not nearly so limited and hoarding seems like so much nonsense. Grandmothers make enough pie for everyone and sharing is rewarded.

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Truly Powerful People (345)

Posted on February 19, 2012 by

345.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

The woman was very old. Like an old tree her spine was weathered and bent so she was incapable of looking ahead. Instead, she stared into the ground, occasionally flicking her eyes up to see what lay ahead. She stood with the help of her cane and waited; the task before her was daunting. It was a task that most of us probably take for granted but for her it was herculean. Or so it seemed to me. She needed to cross the road to get to the other side. Between her and the other side was 8 lanes of traffic and a river of impatient drivers.

The light turned red, the walk signal illuminated and began its counts down: 18, 17, 16, 15,… and the old woman stepped onto the asphalt. Her gait was halting. Her steps unsteady, more of a shuffle than a walk. 10, 9, 8, 7,… and she’d barely crossed a single lane and the drivers were already edging forward, impatient to get on their way, many of them unaware of the small bent woman in brown and green crossing the road.

I was in one of the cars stopped at the light. The thoroughfares in Tucson are wide avenues with broad left-turn lanes; I am young and fit and sometimes have to race to get across in a single light. I felt the low panic of impending disaster. She wasn’t going to make it.

Ellen DeGeneres has issued to her audience a dance dare; she’s asked people to record themselves secretly dancing behind other people; the videos are hysterical, people dancing wildly behind unsuspecting shoppers in the grocery store, workers at the bus stop, analysts in the cubicle. Like one of Ellen’s dance dare tribe, a jogger ran up behind the old woman and began hopping wildly so all lanes of traffic might see! The old woman tottered forward, unsuspecting, with the secret jogger gesturing wildly to the now captive audience of drivers. The light changed and no one moved. The secret jogger skipped back and forth behind the old woman, arms pumping and waving, a crossing guard gone funky chicken.

The old woman stepped safely onto the sidewalk on the other side of the road; the jogger continued her jog as if nothing unusual had happened in the middle of the road. We drivers edged forward, released from the spell of generosity spun by the secret dancing jogger and continued on our way.

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Truly Powerful People (344)

Posted on February 18, 2012 by

344.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Lora tells me that her mother used to stop what she was doing and go outside to watch the sun disappear beneath the horizon. Every evening of her adult life, for a few moments, she would step outside, feel the last rays of the days’ sun on her face and watch until the last hint of light dipped beneath the horizon. In my imagination she stepped out of her “to-do list” and for a few moments stood as a silent witness, present in the world.

These rituals of appearance and disappearance are much on my mind. There are cultures that face east in the dark predawn hours and sing so that the sun will rise. It took me years to understand that their song was not so much about invoking the sun to rise (a result) as much as it was about reaffirming their connection to the cycles of life (a relationship).

While going through college I drove a bread truck to support myself. My route took me east so I drove into the sunrise every morning. After several weeks of watching the sunrise something changed in me. I no longer watched sunrise as an event or a marker of time. The sun rising had little to do with time. It had everything to do with renewal and affirmation. It was a new day full of possibility. It was the return of an old friend. The sun invoked a song in me – presence was an imperative. I recognized the reappearance of the sun was something I would only experience a limited number of times, each opportunity a rare and precious moment.

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Truly Powerful People (343)

Posted on February 17, 2012 by

343.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

I found a slip of paper tucked in an old journal. It carries a message to myself, a vow that I made on a weekend retreat several years ago. This is what I wrote: I will leave starving behind and orient my life according to the feast.

I used to create starvation because I used to fear starvation. Every choice I made, every experience I interpreted was understood according to the lens of fear. The fear was both literal – I would not have enough food (a lack story) – and metaphoric, that I was not enough: not powerful enough, smart enough, funny enough. I used to feel as if the world was too big and that I had no capacity or skill to negotiate it; I used to feel that the world was swallowing me!

My way of attempting to control the uncontrollable – of fending off the feeling of starvation – was to retreat from the world, to hide as if the hounds of my fear would not find me in my retreat. I was a Hungry Ghost: no matter how much I had or how varied and wealthy the experiences of my life, I was incapable of feeling satisfaction. I was incapable of experiencing the fullness of my life. I was starving to death. Starvation was my focus so starvation was my creation.

On the day I wrote the note to myself, I realized that I was starving myself – it was not “the world” that was starving me or my capacities relative to my desires – it was my fear that kept me from the table. The realization of my starvation-creation took my breath away.

Fear was my focus so fear was my creation. Starvation was my focus so starvation was my experience. Because I was seeing the world through a lens of starvation, everything looked barren and dangerous. When the world looks barren, the choices you make are different than the choices you make when the world looks abundant. The world did not change; what changed was my seeing. What changed was where I placed my focus.

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