Truly Powerful People (458)

Posted on June 10, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

458.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

When the bird shot from behind me, passing just inches above my shoulder and grazing my ear, I was surprised and ducked – a now natural response given my relationship with assassin crows. My trigger response of duck-and-cover when I hear the woosh of wings coming from behind has saved my head a good number of divots; crows treat my noggin like a rookie golfer treats a tee. Crows in argyle socks and sleeveless sweaters! A funny image until you realize that in this metaphor I am the green grass about to be clubbed.

It might not seem too unusual for a finch to fly a sortie by my head except we were inside a building. I opened the door to my apartment and the panicked finch came from nowhere, cleared my shoulder and discovered the tricky thing about glass: sometimes you can’t see it. Once while walking across the Reed College campus, Patti and I were having a particularly passionate conversation. We came to the administration building and as I walked through the open door Patti walked into the glass panel next to it. She was as stunned as the bird. She found herself sitting on the ground, her glasses hitchy-screw on her face, small cartoon stars swirled above her head. Trying to make good of an awkward situation I came back through the door and said, “I didn’t see it either.”

The bird recovered faster than Patti and flew behind the jade plant. Lora was in the apartment and we quickly opened all the windows and balcony door. Not knowing what to do, we did what people do: we stood still and looked at each other. Lora said, “What was that?” I made a face and she said, “I know it’s a bird! Where did it come from?” I didn’t have an answer as I had no idea why a bird was lurking in the inner hall of our apartment building. I wanted to say, “It’s the UPS guy and he just shape-shifted into a bird!” but I didn’t. Sarcasm was not appropriate while the bird was still in the room.

It took two more attempts for the finch to find freedom. We ran about trying to be useful, somehow imagining that we were herding the bird toward an open window. I can only imagine that the newly escaped finch met his pals later at the Finch Bar. Rubbing his sore and battered beak he said, “Damn. The weirdest thing happened to me today.” His drinking pals, always sympathetic, shared a knowing glance, bought their friend another berry drink, and quietly hid his keys.

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Truly Powerful People (457)

Posted on June 9, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

457.
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’m on the bus with 3 ladies from Wisconsin. They landed in Seattle without a plan and the wrong clothes for the weather we’re having. They came prepared for summer and were not prepared for the cold winds and freezing rain. It has not dampened their spirits. They are on an adventure and the wrong clothes are now part of a big story of stepping off the edge of the farm belt and into a new land called Seattle.

They’re asking me for tips: where to go to buy wool socks, what to do at the Market, how to best get around. Note: they purposefully did not rent a car because they wanted to navigate the city, to ask questions, to bump into people, to get lost; their plan was to step out of easy and into relationship. “People are so friendly here!” they exclaim. I am stunned at their brilliance and realize that the 3 ladies from Wisconsin are actually Midwestern-Buddha-ladies-in-training. They are not from the big city so talking to strangers is, in their rulebook, polite, so they are talking with everyone. The culture of the bus transforms as the usual stone-faced crowd opens and giggles with the Buddha trio.

We hear a harrowing tale of the drunk man that sat at their table the previous evening. “We were having margaritas!” they declare, “But he was too young for us!” and giggle riotously. “But we did ask if we could borrow his car.” They smiled knowingly as the nearest Buddha to me leaned close and whispered, “We didn’t want him to drive home in that condition. Plus, we thought we could stop by the store for supplies on the way.” Then, she winked.

“Do you have a plan for the day?” another rider asks, wanting to join the fun. “NO!” The Buddha trio chime in chorus. “We want to see what the day holds.” Buddha number one affirmed. “We’ll know our plan when the day is done!” added Buddha number two. Buddha number three smiled and announced to the bus: “Isn’t this great!”

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Truly Powerful People (456)

Posted on June 8, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

456.
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 hiding today. My heart is breaking for no particular reason. Some people call this, “getting up on the wrong side of the bed.” I think they must experience heartache as anger. They skip the heart part and go straight to throwing punches. To let your heart break often requires tears. Pushing back is less vulnerable. Break something else and perhaps the heart will remain intact, or so the theory goes.

I was tempted to blame this heartbreak on the weather: June is having an identity crisis and pretending it is January. I opened my eyes from sleep and heard the cold rain. In the Pacific Northwest there is a unique color grey that shrouds the time of day: 7am could be noon or 5pm. Timelessness. But, in truth, the heartache was with me before I opened my eyes. I felt it as I swam to the surface from my dreaming.

Once in Bali as I swam to the surface from sleep I heard the doves cooing and it was so beautiful that my heart broke. I lay in my bed with the sun streaming through the open screens and knew I was in heaven (it is not some other place). I learned in my Bali time that being fully alive requires a willingness to feel the full range of life’s emotions. To protect myself from heartbreak is akin to cutting red out of the color wheel. Comfort is nice but not very useful if you desire being fully alive.

Recently I saw a powerpoint presentation on what’s coming down the road in technology. One of the slides in education technology said, “Full Body Learning.” When with my aching heart I got up on the side of the bed I always get up on, I thought, “Ah, a day for Full Body Learning. Hello heartbreak.”

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Truly Powerful People (455)

Posted on June 7, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

455.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

(continued from 454)

Alan: The point of meditation is to be more fully present (life is a meditation).
Diane: Imagine yourself as sacred and watch all the separations disappear.
Judy: We are nature observing itself.

Ana-the-wise once told me that my goal should be to make all the world my studio. In other words, to drop the notion that there is a single place where I create or am most creative; that my artistry is my being and not in my doing. This is a more powerful thought than it might first appear. It is a thought with serious traction especially when you are ready to drop any notion of separation – when going to church on Sunday does not a worshipper make. In other words church/synagogue/mosque etc. is not a place to go – it is every place and how you are in it matters. I cannot leave my studio and believe I leave my creative impulse behind without a serious cleaving of my self from my self. If all the world is my studio, if I am always in a sacred place, then the relationship I have with myself must be primary; the story-I-tell-myself-about-myself and the world needs to be conscious and intentional.

Diane’s lesson of developing a better relationship with your self (entertain the realization that you are sacred – try it), ignited within me a chain reaction of thought: 1) If I truly pay attention to the relationship I have with myself and give it as much nurturing and attention as I give other relationships, I learn that 2) my thinking matters. My thinking is how I interpret my experiences. I learn that my thinking can continue swirling in the reactive whirlpool (science tells us that the vast majority of the thoughts we think everyday are the same thoughts from yesterday – don’t ask me how the good folks in the lab figured that out but they did) or I can 3) learn to direct my thought. I can place my thought on what I choose. I can choose my thought. This is a muscle to be exercised not a bit of magic from a hat. You’d be amazed how many times a day I catch myself spinning in a drama-loop and say to myself, “Is this where I want to place my thought?” The answer is always “No.” And, when I ask the question my preferred thought placement is always crystal clear and easily available. 4) Where I direct my thought matters because it determines the world I see and how I am in it. It is a creative act.

When I am in my studio I rarely “think.” I am in a quiet space, a still place, clear and alert and something “comes through.” Why would I limit that potent powerful way of being and confine it to the room I call my studio? Why would I not craft my life to be 100% in the studio?

Ana-the-wise is aptly named: All the world can be your studio. Diane knows it begins with the realization that you are sacred and should treat yourself as such. Alan understands that the point of this life (cradle to grave meditation) is to be fully present so you can do as Judy suggests: revel in nature observing itself.

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Truly Powerful People (454)

Posted on June 6, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

454.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Once, a few years ago, in the class that Alan and I co-facilitate, we had an important conversation about meditation. We’d begin each class with a group meditation and the class participants went deep. They went away. And as they slowly bobbed back to the surface we bumbled into a discussion about the ultimate point of meditation. Alan said, “The purpose of meditation is not to take you away, but to bring you more completely into presence. The purpose is to wake you up to this moment.” It seems obvious but the conversation was a revelation for me.

A few days ago, Judy-whom-I-revere and I took an arm and arm walk through downtown and she told me that she believes our reason for being is to give witness to this extraordinary planet. She said, “We are nature observing itself.” Isn’t that extraordinary!

I am taking a course from Diane and the foundation thought is what she calls “Divine Realization.” The realization is that you and I are sacred and for reasons too numerous to count we discount ourselves as less-than. She is teaching the practice of developing a better relationship with your self: know your self as sacred and you will see the sacred in the world. It’s a powerful practice. What if the relationship you have with yourself was primary? What if loving yourself was the most important thing you did all day – what if tending the inner garden was more important than the to-do list? I recommend it. You’ll be amazed how much better you become at bringing your best self to the world when you actually pay attention to your best self. Awareness alert: It will require you to let go of your Victim attachments so do not get on this bike until you are ready to ride.

The point of meditation is to be more fully present (life is a meditation). Imagine yourself as sacred and watch all the separations disappear. We are nature observing itself. How’s that for a feedback loop!

(to be continued)

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Truly Powerful People (453)

Posted on June 5, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

453.
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 never knew Margaret before Alzheimer’s. She was well into the disease the first time I met her. Even then she had more life, more piss and vinegar (as my grandmother used to say) than almost anyone I knew. She was an outrageous flirt and we made eyes at each other from across the room. And then she’d laugh and put her fingers to her mouth and say, “Oh, my.”

Margaret was filled with fun. Play was the core of her apple, the seed of her being. One night we took her to dinner to tell her that we had to move her into an adult care foster home; she’d nearly burned the house down a few too many times and was no longer safe even with the live-in caregivers. Lora cried when she told Margaret we were going to move her from her home – and through the ravages of the disease I saw the power of a mother reach through Margaret as clarity came into her eyes and she took Lora’s hand and said, “Honey, I know you are doing what you think is best for me.” And then she disappeared again, back beneath the waters of confusion.

It seems to me that each year the disease eats a layer of her being, slowly stripping away her personality and 14 years into the disease, long after she no longer knows who we are or who she is, her core of playfulness remains. And, not surprising, the core is really a membrane of play wrapped around a heart of gratitude. She is a fragile little bird in body and a giant of gratitude in spirit. I love to visit her. I love to sit with her. She rarely responds to us but when she does, her face lights up, her blue eyes shine, her smile grows and she says, “Thank you,” and then she drifts away. I find myself so honored, so moved to know such pure gratitude that I touch my fingers to my lips and respond, “Oh, my.”

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Truly Powerful People (452)

Posted on June 4, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

452.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

In mid-form today, Saul-the-Chi-Lantern swirled from the practice and into a tale. We were midway through class and midway through the form and apparently being on the midway inspired a story in him that reminded me of old masters and why our ideas of learning are so far off the rails.

His tale was of a certain school of thought in Tai Chi in which a newcomer will practice the form for 2 years before being allowed to do exercises with another person (he called them circle exercises). After practicing circle exercises for 13 years a student might advance to the status of beginner and be allowed to actually touch another person in the practice; to work with the energy of another. 15 years of continual practice to consider yourself a beginner. That’s akin to a college senior saying, “Now, I am ready to begin.” Imagine a diploma, not as a completion, a marker for arrival, but as an acknowledgment of readiness to begin.

When I was young the only thing I wanted to do was paint. I used to dream about being shipped off the to the master, to learn by apprenticeship. I’d sleep under the bench, I’d spend the first few years learning to clean the brushes and mix the paint and watch. I might, at age 9 be allowed to hold a brush, to do exercises on used canvas. I might at 12 be allowed to gesso the canvas, to prepare the ground and glue and perhaps paint the under-layer. I’d be drawing all along and learning color and technique and perhaps at 15 I’d be allowed to paint the sky or the clouds in the master’s paintings. And, if I started at 7 years old I might, by the time I was 25, be accepted into the guild. I might be ready to begin. And if I continued to grow, to paint everyday, when I was 50 I could take students of my own. This was my little kid ideal. Learning by doing has always made more sense to me than incarceration in a desk and abstractions. I’ve always understood mastery was so much more interesting and rewarding than arrival.

At the end of his tale Saul-the-Chi-Lantern stepped back into the form as if he’d never left it. He is a master. He was a beginner 40 years ago after 15 years of practice. He is poetry and power and humor and lighthearted. At 70 he could throw me across a room using my own aggression. He assumes nothing. He reminds me each week what a human being can be when they give up the idea that the wealth is in the acquisition; Saul knows the wealth is in having a story to tell.

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Truly Powerful People (451)

Posted on June 3, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

451.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Warning: this post may or may not be shameless self-promotion disguised as a blog post: I can’t decide. Also, I am given to exaggeration so, in addition to being on alert for hidden agendas, you may not want to believe a thing I write. Enter at your own risk (and so on).

Romeo and Juliet is a tragic tale because young lovers have no sense of time. They believe they are immortal so their pain seems eternal. Options do not occur to 14 year-old lovers who can only see as far as they feel. Joy is all encompassing. Pain is all consuming. For young lovers, circumstance and story are the same thing. Had they lived long enough to have a mortgage, a fight or two, time enough for Romeo to do the laundry and wash the reds with the whites, for Juliet to clean house and toss Romeo’s favorite fraternity mug, they might have taken banishment in stride. Instead, they acted impulsively and made a mess of things.

I carried my Romeo and Juliet phase well into my thirties. I made a mess of things. Repeatedly. There was no relationship I could not destroy, no career I could not sabotage, no opportunity I could not ruin, no creative impulse I could not imprison. I stepped into the forest where there was no path and broke a lot of branches, fell over every log as my eyes were searching the sky. Highs were high, lows were dark, and balance was a nice word with no socket to plug into. I banished myself, drank my poison, beat my breast in despair and died more than once. And, one day, I wondered why I was telling myself a story of woe. I wondered what other stories were available to me. And, since I am essentially a teacher, I set about to teach myself how to tell a different story. As Joseph Campbell said, “We must be willing to get rid of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” I had to get rid of an old story to see a path to the new story. And then I learned that the only reason to tell a new story was to learn to let go of story altogether. In this, I found wise guides and a plethora of helpful maps.

Recently I began to teach what I have learned (and continue to learn). The “how to let go of an old story” workbook is now an ebook. It’s called The Ground Truth: Six Dynamic Relationships That Will Change Your Life. It’s a bold claim; sorting out the six relationships cleaned the debris from my story and helped me see beyond my garbage layer. So far it is helping others do the same. Sho tells me it’s the real deal and I have no reason to doubt him.

The wise guides and helpful maps I found are…stories. There is a reason our ancestors told stories and the reason was to help us know how to live better lives, how to fulfill our desires, creative impulses, and navigate the fear. The stories served as a map as I navigated my rocky internal geography. I had to learn to read the map in the story and am teaching this, too. The “how to read a story as a map” workbook, now ebook, is called Seek The Bear: A Story-Map For Transforming Your Life. Both are now available through my site at www.trulypowerful.com. Buy them. Tell your friends about them. Tell your enemies. They make odd holiday gifts and since you are embracing your inner odd (whether you know it or not), it would serve you to give them liberally.

I intend to send a ripple and you are my rock (how’s that for a metaphor! Recently, someone likened me to prime rib so the metaphor door is wide open). Believe it or not, ripple or no, there is a better story – and remember – I gave you fair warning.

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Truly Powerful People (450)

Posted on June 2, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

450.
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 years the question I have most dreaded is the cocktail party standard, “So, what do you do?” I’ve never had a simple answer. I’ve never had a single answer. And usually, my answer serves to complicate rather than simplify. Once I stopped feeling bad that I didn’t have a simple answer, once I recognized that I was never going to have a suitable answer, I decided to make the moment an opportunity for play: I used the untenable question to sort my encounters into “those people I want to know” and “those people that I do not.” I went on offense. Without hesitation I tell them whatever comes into my mind; the people that step toward the chaos go into the “people I want to know” bucket. Those that flee the chaos have self selected themselves from my future friend pool. Recently, my newest favorite friend took me to lunch and started our time together with, “Who the hell are you?” It’s worth noting that he also has no simple answer to the dreaded question.

Once, at a conference for doctors, I performed a piece that was written to seem autobiographical, but was fiction through and through. I played the role of a doctor. Off the stage, I was surprised and delighted when people called me doctor! They didn’t realize that I was an invention – and I did nothing to help correct their perception. It felt good fitting into an identifiable box. “Doctor Robinson,” they said, “Thank you for telling us your story.” I smiled and said, “Thank you for listening to my story.” All the while I was thinking, “Mom would be so proud!” For one glorious day through my invention I felt the simple joy of being identifiable to others. And, in that day, I realized with relish that it is all an invention. None of us is truly identifiable; no one is the role that they play. Double liberation!

There is an exercise I love doing with groups: pretend that your memory will be erased in 5 minutes; before your memory is gone, before 5 minutes elapse, write all that you want to remember, all that you think you value, all that you want to recall about yourself. People write about their families and relationships, they write phone numbers of important friends, they write of their dogs and their desires. I’ve done this exercise with groups hundreds of times and once, only once, at a retreat, a woman wrote that she loved herself beyond measure, that she was fulfilled and talented and caring. When I asked her about it she said, “If I have a clean slate and can only know myself through what I’ve written, why not tell myself a great story. Why not invent an amazing me.”

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Truly Powerful People (449)

Posted on June 1, 2012 by davidrobinsoncreative

449.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

My great aunt Dorothy was wise. She lived a simple life in the mountains above Central City, Colorado when it was still a mining town – long before the casino conversion turned it into an amusement park. Dorothy pieced together a living with my great uncle Del. They moved through their days with the sturdy simplicity of two people content to be right where they were – alive and grateful for every day. Their aspiration was to walk the hills, appreciate the seasons, and learn the deep quiet of the mountain. In turn the mountain evoked the deep quiet from within them.

For some reason they welcomed their rowdy nieces and nephews; we’d stay for weeks at a time. We shattered their quiet and complicated their simplicity and they loved us for it. Dorothy cooked hearty meals on a wood burning caste iron stove in a house that felt as if it might slide down the ravine at any moment. She collected blue glass, kept the hummingbird feeders well supplied, and made sure Poncho, their ancient dog, was in the sunniest spot.

Once, she took me on a hike. We followed a path through an aspen grove and crossed a field into a stand of pine trees. On the far side of the pines stood the remains of two-story house. Trees grew through the floor and branches reached out the windows; it was as if the trees were wearing the house for a coat or a Halloween costume. We peeked inside and tried to imagine people living there. I’d never before seen the earth reclaim a house. As if she read my mind, Dorothy said, “You never really own anything, do you. It’s all on loan.” Her eyes sparkled as she poked the rotted floorboards with a stick before stepping on them. “Isn’t it beautiful,” she sighed admiring the dilapidation. When I wrinkled my brow she laughed and said, “I suppose you have to know you are on loan before you can really see the beauty.”

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