A Word From The Rejuvenation Fairy

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

With a puzzled look on his face, Saul the-chi-lantern stopped our tai chi practice in mid form and said, “I have never understood why people willingly engage in activities that deplete them.” We returned his puzzled look with one of our own. He laughed, recognizing that he’d once again given voice to a remnant of thought-trail and although he had the full conversation available in his mind, we only had the bit that leaked out at the end.

“Let me put it to you this way, “ he said, “I used to practice many forms of marshal arts and after most days I would return exhausted, battered and bruised. One day, after returning from a tai chi class, feeling refreshed and invigorated, I asked myself why I wasn’t pursuing refreshed and invigorated all the time?” He paused, deep in a memory before continuing, “I see people everyday choosing to be battered and bruised. They are oriented in their lives thinking they have to kill themselves to achieve something. I don’t know. What is so attractive about killing yourself when you could choose to refresh and renew yourself? It makes no sense to me.” He smiled, adding, “Now that I am 70 years old it makes no sense. What takes so long?”

(note: This message for Lisa goes for all of you. Relax. And mean it; no pretend relaxation. Fairies can see through that stuff.  You never know what a Rejuvenation Fairy will do to support your relaxation and rejuvenation. They can be brutal. Seriously.)

Unleashing Sean Smith

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

Today I celebrate Sean. He has done what many people desire to do, what most people talk of doing but few rarely do: he is pursuing his dream.

I had already been Sean’s coach for several months when he said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, “What I really want is to do write a book.” He spoke his hidden truth and we both knew it. The idea was more than daunting to him, it seemed nearly impossible. He works more than full-time. He is married and has two kids. He volunteers and is active in his community. Like most of us, his dream sat at the bottom of his list for a very long time.

And, he started to write. He set some realistic goals, writing everyday on his commute to and from work. He allowed himself to take one step at a time and did not forget the all-important matching action: he continued to take steps. Soon there was a chapter and then two, and after some months there were five chapters and then a rough draft. His disbelief took one step at a time, too; about the time he had a rough draft he also had belief. He knew he could do it. He knew he would do it.

But “doing it” was no longer the goal, being a good writer was now the goal. And this goal, he knows, is also only temporary; the real goal is be become masterful. He began attending seminars and classes. He sought and interviewed writers; he did not hide or pretend because he surrendered his outcome-focus for the more vital and satisfying process-focus. He sent his draft to editors and entered the purgatory of an endless cycle of rewrites and revisions. And he kept taking steps.

As he wrote he also he put together a solid plan for publishing and promoting his book that included personal and professional networks, reviewers, publishers, and more.

Sean’s first book, Unleashing Colter’s Hell, a fiction thriller set in Yelowstone National Park is now available through Amazon.com. He told me he’ll soon begin work on the screenplay but wants to do a rough draft of his second book before jumping into a screenplay. Sean is on fire. It’s what happens when you strap on your shoes and walk toward your dream. (I’ve already read chapter one of book two and I’m desperate to know what happens next….).

Know Your Name

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

On the corner of Beach Drive and 63rd Street is William Stanton Jr. park. Each day I pass the sign with his name and I wonder who he was (or is); why does this park carry his name. It was meant to be an honor, certainly, a commemoration.

I used to consult with the Lincoln Unified School District in Stockton, California and one of their elementary schools was named after Claudia Landeen. She was a pioneer of the district and an inspiration to many educators. I met Claudia once before she died. She was a mentor to my mentor, Tom. I met her at the elementary school that carried her name and when she was introduced to the crowd as “thee” Claudia Landeen, she rolled her eyes. She whispered to Tom, “Be careful, they name a school after you when they want to put you out to pasture.” Tom, closing in on his own retirement, said, “Oh, god! There’s talk of to sticking my name on the men’s room door.”

In Seattle, we have Edgar Martinez Blvd (he was a player on the Mariner’s baseball team for a very long time), we have Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd, our state is named for George Washington; I know because his picture is on the state flag. I have several times visited the Vietnam Memorial in the other Washington; it is a wall of names that we do not want to forget; names that we hope to honor far into the future.

We are masters of naming things. Isn’t that how we locate ourselves? Don’t the names we put on things also carry a history? Don’t they serve an intention? The name gives the place an association, a meaning. I grew up in Jefferson County, Colorado and there is no doubt in my mind which Jefferson the county is named after; his name links me to a tradition, a value set, and an origin story.

Political seasons always make me perk up my ears to the names we place on other people. Like the names we stick on places, the names we stick on other people are not passive; these names carry history, intention, and many levels of meaning; and they also serve to locate us. The candidates call each other names, the parties name each other, the media adds a name or two; there are so many pundits telling me what I just heard and interpreting for me what it all means – apparently they must name my experience for me; it is a veritable circus of name calling and interpretation of the name that was just called. Often, I ask myself, “Given these names and with so many people dedicated to telling me what I just heard, working so hard to locate me, how do I locate myself?” How many of us are truly locating ourselves and how many of us are outsourcing our point of view (location)?

I just heard about a study showing that where belief is concerned, party affiliation trumps education every time. In other words, we’ve stopped thinking critically (and independently – despite what we like to believe of ourselves) and will swallow any name the party asks us to swallow. Perhaps we are lazy or too busy to think for ourselves; either way in the absence of a questioning mind the name we give to others carries a dangerous kind of power: locating “them” also serves to locate “us” and since the name we stick on “them” has little or no substance, the location we give ourselves will also be void of substance.

It is no small question when I ask, “How are you locating yourself?” Who is naming your experiences for you? To what are you sticking your name?

Just Watch Me

547. 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 other day Judy was sharing her vision for playing the harp in hospitals and hospice. She was so clear and passionate and finished her dreaming with this: she said, “And I’m going to do it, you just watch me!” And I knew without doubt that she would make her vision come to pass because she had no doubt.

When things come to me in clusters, I know to pay attention. “Knowing without doubt” has been the central theme of many of my recent conversations. Last night, Bryan was telling me about a crucial moment in his past, the moment when his life changed. He said, “It wasn’t until I knew; when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what I wanted, it seemed like the entire universe rushed to show me how to get there.”

After my mystical meeting with Janice-the-heron-lady yesterday, I googled “heron” and loved this phrase: Heron’s appear when we need to be aggressive beyond doubt in pursuit of our needs and desires. Heron teaches us to be self-determined.

When Alan coaches people he brings them to what he calls a “once and for all commitment.” The commitment they make is to themselves – and can only come when, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they are ready to pursue their dream. It is the moment when, like Judy, they say, “Just watch me.”

Today, I am paying attention to the shadow that doubt casts, knowing that I am the creator of the doubt; the shadow cast is mine. What do I need to know or do or let go to move beyond the shadow of my doubt, to stand in the sun and say once and for all, “I’m going to do it; just watch me.”

Listen To The Heron

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

Janice and Francis appeared with the herons. It is not unusual for a single heron to be fishing the Sound at low tide. I have never seen two herons flying together until this morning.

There is a smallish park wedged between two apartment complexes; it is perfect for my morning Tai Chi because it is lower than the street, shielded by shrubs, and the waters of the Sound lap against the west side. It is quiet. I was midway through the form, deep in a quiet mind, and I heard the croak of a heron. Turning, flying just over me, were two gawky and graceful herons, cutting through the park. When my eyes dropped back to the earth, Janice was standing there with her dog, Francis; she was looking at me as if the herons had interrupted our conversation. From my perspective, she simply appeared.

She said, “Heron’s represent patience.” I was still a bit startled at her appearance so she continued, saying, “I’ve lived here for years and years and I’ve never seen two. Have you? It must be a magical day.”

“Yes,” I said.

As I gave Francis a pet, Janice continued, “I’ve done a lot of reading about heron’s and what they represent. Patience is important and they are also symbolic of the need to passionately pursue what you want and need. They are a very determined bird, very self-reliant.” I smiled when she said “They came right through here… just for you I think.

“I think you are right.” I said, as she bid me a good day and turned, calling Francis. Together they climbed the stair and disappeared.

Get Lost

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

Pete is my neighbor and an excellent photographer. And, although he is retired, he is new to the idea that he is and always has been an artist. Last week he stopped me on the street and asked for my help. He said, “I’m stuck. I’m lost. I’m wearing slippery shoes and walking on ice.” We laughed at his analogy explosion. “Seriously,” he said, “You help artists and I need your help.” So, we made a date to talk.

Today was our talk. We sat on the balcony in the afternoon sun; I already knew what Pete was confronting (he was stuck, he was lost, he felt as if he was slipping and sliding on ice), and was not surprised when he said, “I’ve lost my way. I don’t know what I’m doing with my art anymore and the more I try to produce decent work, the worse it gets. I’m scared.” I could see the fear and frustration in his face. What do you do when you feel as if your muse has abandoned you?

I asked Pete if he’d ever in his life experienced any personal growth (what a set up!). “Of course. Too much!” was his reply. I asked him what the process of personal growth felt like; how did it begin? “I felt lost,” he said, smiling, understanding. “And then I felt really lost.” In order to grow, you must first get lost. There must be winter if there is to be spring. You must get lost before you find the new direction. It is natural process and is only made difficult when we resist it.

The resistance we experience is rooted in the notion that we have to be productive all the time. To exclusively focus on the outcome comes at great expense: forfeit of healthy process and the eventual death of artistry. It is unnatural to be productive 24/7, 365 days a year. Feeling fallow is a necessary phase of rejuvenation. Mastery is never outcome focused because, like the cycle of seasons, there is no end: there is good natural process. Fallow time can be deeply satisfying and enormously revivifying when we understand that artistry has nothing to do with outcomes and everything to do with a way of being in the world. Being an artist is not about playing the piano or dancing or painting pictures. It is about presence; it is cultivating your natural capacity to step into the unknown. Of course, stepping into the unknown is simply another way of saying, “Learning to get lost.” Pete laughed hysterically when, at the beginning of our conversation he wrinkled his brow and said, “I’m lost.” And I said, “Oh, thank god! Now you are an artist!”

Breathe A Sigh Of Relief

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

Talking with my peers who, like me, identify as young but our conversations are sounding suspiciously like the conversations our parents used to have (“my body hurts…,” “I don’t have the energy for it…,” “We were never like that…”), our topic turned to “young people plugged into their ear buds who seem to be lost in a world of their own.” Good contrarian that I am, I had another point of view on the “young” escapees.

Nobutoshi Kihara developed the Sony Walkman way back in the 1970’s and the catalyst for the technology was to create a way for people to listen to their music without disturbing others. It was an invention born from consideration, a distinctly Japanese idea. Translated to an American consumer it morphed into a way for people to tune out the noise and chaos of contemporary life. I offered this notion to my pals: most of us now live in an urban environment, we can’t walk down the street without advertisements competing for our attention no matter where we turn (a boat is now trolling the Puget Sound beaches pulling a with a billboard…nothing is sacred), our world is plagued by a non-stop political campaign defined by ugly accusations, political parties that are either useless or crazy and certainly no longer interested in compromise or governing, news organizations that gave up their mission decades ago and now believe their job is to entertain (so they shout and organize fights), bankers that no longer serve their communities but instead pillage from them, schools driven by the one thing we know that impedes education (a focus on an outcome instead creating a process of discovery), cops with guns, crooks with guns, moms with guns, an economic machine that needs war to be healthy, terror, terror everywhere,…who wouldn’t want to put in ear buds and play a different soundtrack? I suggested that the sanest people on the street are the ones who are refusing to listen to the noise and instead are at least proactive enough to take care of themselves.

When I asked my pals how much television they watched each day, they grumbled knowing what I was implying. There are many ways to tune out. There are many forms of complacency.

Yesterday I took a short hike on a forest trail and it only took a few minutes for me to get quiet inside. With no one screaming for my attention, with no one screaming at others or honking or emailing or proclaiming, pontificating, threatening, inflating, running to get there, racing to get here, I was amazed at how much I wanted to tune in to my surroundings. I wanted nothing between me and the natural rhythm; my pace slowed, my senses opened and I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Join The Dance

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

This is a love letter to movement. If you take the time, if you move slow enough, you begin to see and feel and sense the swirling of air, the dance of grass, flicker of light through leaves, the beat of your heart, the tide of the Sound, the woman walking her dog, the heron’s eyes looking for movement beneath the water’s surface.

Is there anything that is not in motion? The earth is turning on an axis as it rotates around the sun, not to mention the satellite moon tracing its orbit. They tell us that the universe is expanding until, someday in a distant future, it will contract. My hand opens and closes a thousand times each day. This afternoon I walked through a forest and saw pollens wafting in the beams of light streaming through the canopy; bees bobbed on ferns triggering an explosion of particles that caught an air current and whirled. Leaves, somehow knowing that the earth is turning, trade their viridian coats for ochre, scarlet, and brilliant yellow before releasing their branches for another kind of motion.

Sound is motion and I know that seems like an anemic revelation though I challenge you to go out into the world and feel the waves hit you. A few times in my life I have performed a story standing in front of an orchestra and I felt the tsunami of sound crash into and through me. The drums hit my belly and the violins pierced my heart. I told the conductor that his orchestra gave me the best massage I’ve ever had. “Moved to tears” is an incredibly apt expression.

I recognize that thought, too, is motion. I cannot lift a glass and take a drink without first instructing myself to do so. I suppose the thought is literally a squirt of chemicals moving through my brain that sets off a series of electrical impulses the cause my muscles to move, my fingers wrap around the glass. And, as a lover of paradox, I delight in the realization that to slow my mind I must first slow my body, to experience the miracle of motion in and around me, I must intend with my thought to slow my breath, to slow my gait, so that I might slow my thought. Only then am I capable of moving in the moment, not through it (both are forms of motion) and experiencing myself as a full participant in the dance.

Keep It Simple

542. 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 heard a bit of a conversation today. It was just before tai-chi class and one of my classmates was sharing a story. He said, “I’ve learned that how you treat the trivial moments of your life is how your life treats you.” He followed it with an example: he said, “Someone cuts you off in traffic; how are you going to respond? Such a little thing yet how many times have I treated being cut off as a statement of power – and I lose!” He laughed. “I get angry and life gives me an angry day. I created the anger so that’s just what I got!”

Recently, Ana-the-wise busted me, saying, “You are just like me, you make things too complex. You look for the deep meaning in everything and so you make even the simple things complicated. Sometimes it is just simple.” I thought of Ana while listening to my classmate. What I put out is what I get back. It is simple. And I need not seek the big moments in life for clues about what I put out – pay attention to the little moments and I get all the information I need.

Shatter

541. 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 revisited an old Joseph Campbell lecture the other day and as always happens a specific image captured me. Once captured, I linger in it – or it lingers in me – until each layer opens. The image was this: The universe is a dynamic undifferentiated whole that “shatters” when it comes into form. You and I are little fragments of the shattered whole. And, through the course of our lives and experiences, we shatter ourselves so that we might come to realize that we are merely forms of a dynamic undifferentiated whole. It is divergence and convergence. It is a tide motion of consciousness. It is the Hindu image of the god opening its eyes and a universe comes into being – and then closing its eyes and all forms dissolve into the dynamic undifferentiated whole. It is the cycle of birth to death to birth to death.

I learned in my 11th grade physics class that energy doesn’t go away it merely changes form. The word “shatter” is a very specific action; it is abrupt. It is non-negotiable. I’ve shattered wine glasses and windows and more than one coffee cup. Once, I bought a box of ceramic plates so that one of my students could release his anger by throwing them at a brick wall. There was some serious shattering and laughter that day. I have shattered myself more than once and will likely do it again. My friend Jim once asked me, “What is it with you and the need to live so close to the margin, with this desire to leap over edges?” I did not have an answer for him but now I know: I’m getting glimpses of the undifferentiated whole.

Today in my assignment, Megan asked, as we leave August on a blue moon, a magic time: “What will you carry forward? What will you leave behind?” This has been the summer of shattering. I am leaving bits and shards everywhere, the tide goes out, the goddess closes her eyes; what I take with me is the understanding that after a period of undifferentiated wholeness, the tide will come in and the goddess will open her eyes and I will surely emerge in a new form.