Exit The Mind Field

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

There is a self-judgment that I often hear from clients, “I should be in the world in a more dynamic/expressive/productive way. I am not fulfilling my potential.” Probe a bit deeper and inevitably I find that there is also a world-view supporting the self-judgment: “I live in a minefield.” I love this term, minefield, or, as another client used to say, more to the point, “mind field.”

How can you possibly expect to fulfill your potential if you believe you live in a field of mines? If you exist in a minefield, you step lightly if you step at all. The expectation to fulfill potential does not match the world-view. In a minefield, survival is the best you can do.

The expectation of fulfilled potential comes from the desire to be in the world in a different way. The question is rarely about potential and is usually about safety. A child that does not feel safe will not play. An adult that does not feel safe will not bring their best offer; they cease to express. To be more dynamic/expressive/productive you must first decide to exit the minefield. It is not fulfilled potential but freedom of movement that we seek; “fulfilled potential” is an abstraction; freedom to move and breathe and speak is tangible.

Identify the mines. Do you compare yourself with others? Who? Why is this other person the standard bearer for your life? Have you set an absurdly high expectation or invested in the notion of “perfect?” Who set the bar that is impossible to clear? Whose permission do you seek? What story do you wrap around your choices? There are legitimate minefields in this world and then there are mind fields. Learning to distinguish between the two is a great first step. If you are truly in a minefield retrace your steps and get out. If you are in a mind field, retrace your steps and get out. Reclaim your safety.

The rivers of creativity cannot flow through you if you are afraid to move. Potential is not a vessel to fill it is a quality of movement in your life.

Choose Your Practice

598. 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 preparation for our class I was reading Alan’s book, Create A World That Works, and read a passage that I’ve read at least five times but never before registered. This time, it was the passage that stood out, the passage that stood up and said, “Hey!” The chapter is about stillness and the passage that hollered is a kind of equation that goes something like this: the more inner chatter you experience, the more you will try to control your outside world. Or, flip it over: quiet your mind and you will quiet your need to control things that you can’t control.

The inner world and the outer world are not separate affairs. One of the Hermetic Laws is, “As within, so without” and I understood the concept in story terms: quiet the racket inside and you will not live a life of racket on the outside. Yet, I hadn’t understood it in terms of the impulse to control. It makes sense to me: a life full of racket is a life full of the frustrated attempt to control things that you can’t control – which feeds the internal racket. It is a feedback loop.

I worked with a group this week and we played with the concept of “controlling what you can control and letting the rest go” – as it applies to personal and organizational health. A healthy person, a healthy organization is not invested in things beyond their control. They focus their energy and action where it is most effective. They are not invested in what other people think or see or feel; those things are beyond their control. They are invested in and responsible for what they think or see or feel. Their worth is in their own hands and not in the hands of others. Inner chatter, what you think, is a controllable. Every meditation and self-help book on the planet has clues about how to quiet the inner chatter. Add this to the pile: let go of what you can’t control, care more for what you think than you care about what others think. Chatter is a pattern and so it quiet; it is simply a matter of the practice you choose.

Be A Mystery

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

Sitting on the pier watching the sun come up, the temperature already 85 degrees, I had an epiphany. I realized that I have spent much of my life trying “to figure it out,” which, in essence, is an attempt to figure out myself. Watching the sky erupt into orange and fiery red, I thought, “What if I am mystery? What if I was meant to be a mystery? What if all of this “figuring out” was really an attempt to control or contain the uncontrollable? How would I be in the world if I stopped trying to figure it out and instead reveled in the mystery? I think I’d play more than I do currently. I’d run in circles and roll down hills. I’d be less concerned about things making sense.

I know this. I give meaning to the world I inhabit. The meaning is not “in” the world; it is “in” me. The perpetual search for meaning stopped when I ceased to seek meaning as something separate from myself. This shift of perspective is a quality of empowerment: we become power-full when we own our choices and the epicenter of choice is where we decide to place our focus. In other words, what do you choose to see and how do you choose to interpret (story) your experiences.

Even knowing this, it came as a surprise when I recognized the need to surrender my control and containment imperative: figuring it out is a fool’s errand. We can discover how to split an atom but we will never discover what it means. It means nothing without our participation, how we use it, what we intend. With that sunrise, the world regained its scope and infinite variety. My assumptions dribbled away with the dawn. The truth is that I don’t know. I don’t really know anything. It is too vast for me to know. The best I can do is close my eyes and feel the sun on my face. I can smell the salt sea air, I can listen to the waves and the birds and the distant voices. I can make a story of it all. Ask me what it means and I will ask you what it means to you. Ask me what it means to me and I just might tell you, “Nobody knows! It’s a mystery.”

Find Your Pivot Point

595. 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 594]

It is a full decade since I learned to dive with Terry. Until last week it had been 6 years since my last dive. Although I live on the Puget Sound, near one of the world’s great dive spots, the water is cold and I am skinny; I hate to shiver and all I need do is look at the divers preparing to enter the frigid waters outside my door and I start looking for a blanket.

A few weeks ago I flew to Belize for a dive vacation. Apparently I was ready for my second master and the next level of the lesson. And, lucky me, since it was time for the second master, I actually had two masters show up: the first was the dive master, named Luckie (note: I am considering a name change; how cool is it to be a dive master AND to be named Luckie). Luckie, above the water, is a trickster and filled with laughter; beneath the surface he is easy, clear, and neutral. He radiates trust. I would follow him anywhere. Luckie dives without any weight. Most divers need a small amount of weight to take them down and to assist with neutral buoyancy. This is too big of a metaphor for this small post but just consider the implications: how much weight do you need to carry to become neutral? Luckie needs none. He is neutral all the time and like Terry, that does not render him without personality, it does the exact opposite: Luckie is a riot of laughter and joy. He is a magnet for life. He is hungry to know and engage and experience. He is the embodiment of what it is to be neutral and efficient. Luckie has fire and he burns clean.

The second master is Luckie’s boss, Declan (okay, another cool name. Apparently you can only live in Belize if your have a cool name). He came with us on our second day of diving. The first time I saw Declan in the water I almost cried; I have never before seen a human being that easy and present. He was so…beautiful…in the water that I was stunned: the absence of struggle. I had to swim behind him. I wanted to know what he knows, I wanted to mimic what he did. And, remember, I know Terry. I was amazed and inspired by Luckie. Declan in the water becomes the water; he is not easy in it, he is it. He teaches a class in mastering your buoyancy and I will go back to Belize to take the class. Like Terry or Luckie, diving with Declan is not about diving; it is about how to be in the world; it is how to be the world.

I told him that I wanted to take his class and he said, “Oh, it’s easy! It’s not the same for any two people. It’s all about the right amount of weight and recognizing that balance comes from your hips. Find your pivot point, it’s in your center and feel your way into it and then practice. There’s no other way.”

So, crib notes from Belize: you can’t think your way into it. Neutral knows how to laugh. I now know what the absence of struggle looks like. Embodiment. Perfect balance. Practice, practice, practice. There’s no other way.

Buy Terry A Beer

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

Scuba diving is rife with life lessons. I learned to dive in Bali from an American ex-pat named Terry, a former surfer, drug runner, and underwater welder turned Buddhist. And, since I was the only person in the class, I had my own private life lesson delivered through the metaphor of diving. As Joyce would say, Terry was an old soul; he was comfortable anywhere in the world, above or below the water, in the west or the east; he’s one of the few people I’ve known who was truly at home in the world. I had to buy Terry a beer for every gaff I made on the way to ease in the water and I will go on record saying that there is not enough beer in the world to pay Terry what I owe him.

The primary skill for a diver to learn is neutral buoyancy. Regardless of depth, a diver wants to hover in the water, not sink or rise (unless he or she intends to change depth). Terry used to say, “Get neutral. Use the least amount of energy necessary. The skill is presence.” Re-reading that last sentence makes Terry sound old and wise and he was young and energetic, filled with crazy mischief and daring, so please insert your best brazen Hawaiian surfer gone rogue dialect into the previous sentence; my Yoda liked reggae and once said to me, “Let’s spin the ptomaine wheel!” as he strode into a smoky roadside eatery.

Neutral buoyancy is balance; it is the physical experience of perfect balance though you can’t achieve it without balancing your breathing as well, which balances your mind. When you become neutral, your breathing slows, you become efficient – and not the American puritan notion of efficient – as that implies work, sweat, hard pews and squeezing life out in a cubicle. This type of efficiency is the form that comes when you are most alive which means your mind is most quiet; there is no need to achieve or change or grow or do anything. Breathe, rest in balance, witness. No impulse to resist the present moment or to be elsewhere. In fact, when you relax into it, the colors suddenly heighten; there are amazing fish and creatures moving all around, and you can’t believe the shapes or the vibrancy of the world in which you find yourself. It is magic and you are magic (not separate from “it”). And, best of all, after a while it occurs to you that you don’t need to be underwater to practice being neutrally buoyant. It is a skill you can practice anytime, anywhere.

How much beer would you buy Terry to learn neutral buoyancy?

[to be continued]

“FEED ME!”

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

There is a special place in my heart for momma seagulls. Each morning I see them stamping across the beach, their teenager close on their heels squawking for food. The teenager doesn’t squawk once or twice; their cry for food is incessant, unrelenting. Their squawk is high pitched and piercing. The momma gull looks as if she needs an aspirin. She looks like some momma humans I have seen in grocery stores: every fiber of her being resisting the urge to end the life that she birthed. I am undecided whether the momma gull is frantically looking for food to stop the squawk or racing to get away from their fledgling before committing a capital bird crime.

Yesterday I took a walk with Pete. He is a gifted artist though is convinced that he must know something or achieve something to be valid. He is wrestling with the artist-as-outcome demon. What must he do to allow that he is and always has been an artist? Pete is retired and has been pursued his entire life by an inner squawking that refuses to yield. It says, “FEED ME. FEED ME. FEED ME.” And, like the momma gull, he either runs to find food (art-as-product) or runs to get away from the voice.

His dilemma is common among people who finally listen to the inner voice and attempt to feed the artist that chases them. The mistake is to think that validity is something that others grant to you. This mistake will have Pete hunting for scraps to feed a bottomless pit of hunger; the squawking will never stop. There is a happy day in every seagull and artist’s life when the momma turns to the squawking teenager and roars, “FEED YOURSELF.” For the artist, the equivalent comes in the moment when they realize that the squawking will stop the moment they care more for what they think of their work than they care what others might think of their work; validity moves inside. For the artist, the squawk is to be heeded, it is literal: “FEED ME,” means to feed my ideas, my opinions, and stop giving away the worth of my artistry, the nutrient of my opinions to others.

Set Up Your World

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

Megan-the-Brilliant said something to me that stopped me in my tracks, took my breath away, opened my eyes and made my wee heart flutter. She said, “Set up your world to feed you and you will feed the world.” It is such a simple thing. She was dope slapping me for attempting to set up my world to feed everyone but me – an old pattern. As Patti once wrote, put your oxygen mask on first. You are no good to anyone if you pass out or otherwise deplete yourself.

As I said, I used to be a master of depletion, serving the needs of others at great cost to myself. During those years I often wondered why I consistently gave the farm away, why I was always so tired, why I crashed and crashed again and had more and more trouble recuperating. Survival, I have learned, is not the same as thriving. I am much more capable of helping others find their creative potency when I first attend to my own. In fact, when I attend to my own I don’t have to try and help others; it just happens.

I’ve decided that there is no place in this world for martyrs or saviors. We need healthy vibrant creative dynamic souls who celebrate life and each other on a daily basis. We do not need more sacrifices. I know this runs counter to the canon but I now believe that life is sacred – all life – and that must include my own life. How would I act each day if I understood that I was sacred, too?

People run into burning buildings to save others, not out of some notion of sacrifice but because in such extreme circumstances we transcend our notion of separation. The otherness vanishes; the life in the burning building is my life. All life is my life. Joe used to say that, “the universe tends toward wholeness,” and this morning I would amend that statement to read, “the universe is wholeness,” and we can see it when we put down our martyr stories and get our savior complexes out of the way.

See For Yourself

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

Someone told me today that I see the world in a different way than any other person they’ve ever met. It was a compliment and I took it that way. And, I couldn’t help think that this is true of every person. No one sees as I see. I cannot see what anyone else sees. They have never been behind my eyes and I will never be behind theirs. Our patterns and beliefs and experiences and expectations have more to do with what we see than anything in our sight line.

A few days ago I passed a man sitting shirtless in the dirt. He was tossing handfuls of dirt into the air and with eyes closed he would look up so the falling dirt would cover his face. Then he ground the dirt into his face. I thought he must be homeless, out of his mind; I worried for him until another man stepped from a doorway and said, “I think that’s enough. You look great now so let’s get the shot.” It brought to mind the day Megan, Jill and I rubbed mud into our hair and on our faces because we were going into a kindergarten classroom with a story of high adventure to tell. Mud made us credible. Many people saw us rolling in the mud and must have thought we were nuts or at least dangerous.

I am consciously changing the way I see. I’ve lived too many of my precious years on this earth with eyes focused only on the negative. I found my worth in pushing back. Once, my friend Roger told me that my darkness could “suck the air out of a room.” He was right. My darkness was sucking the air out of me. And the light, too. I count myself fortunate that I was conscious that my seeing was my choice; my story was my creation. If there was no light in my life then I was to blame.

This earth is extraordinary and the vast majority of people on it at present are well intentioned, deeply caring, and just as clueless as I am. The one thing I know for certain is that I will never know what they see, but I do know that their hopes and dreams and ideas are just as potent, just as real, and just as valid as are mine.

Step Toward Your Dream

564. 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 opportunity comes when the artist is ready. Horatio made a single pitch to fund his next film and the money came roaring in. “Oh God!” he wrote. “Green light! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear….” Tamara will perform her first public gig. She is an extraordinary musician, prolific, and as she stepped toward her dream, the pesky dream stepped toward her. “Oh!” she wrote, “I know I can do it, but….”

Step toward your dreams and your dreams will step toward you. And when you touch, for the first time, the thrill of contact, like meeting your true love, will always evoke trepidation and doubt. You will shake and say to your self, “I can’t believe it.”

Once, just after I signed a lease for a studio, a friend said, “Uh-oh, now you have to show up!” My great directing mentor, Jim, surprised me when he confessed that before every new rehearsal process, prior to the first read through, he would get sick to his stomach. He told me each time he was certain that he had nothing offer, that he had no idea how to direct a play. Jim directed hundreds of plays and each time was certain he knew nothing.

What impresses me most about artists and seekers of dreams is that they feel this fear and do not turn and run. They feel it and keep walking. Their dream opens its arms and despite their certainty that they will be a disappointing lover, they step into the embrace and offer the world their gifts. We fling around the word “transformation” like we used to toss about the word “paradigm;” it has come to mean something generic. Mark, and Tamara and transforming; they are feeling it, the dream, the step, the doubt, the embrace. Consequently, neither they, nor their dream, will ever be the same.

Where Is Your Fire?

563. 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 was awake very early, way before sunrise. I sat on my balcony and watched the sky progress from ultramarine through several shades of purple before resting in turquoise. The clouds were fiery balls of cotton. The fires burning on the eastern slope are facilitating extraordinary colors in the sky. The sun rose magenta. Through the smoky filter I could look at it directly for almost an hour. Sun and I had a staring contest. I lost.

This will go in the books as the summer of fire. I was in Colorado when fires burned across the entire state. Now, there are fires everywhere in Washington State. In May, Alan asked me a question that would give rise to the summer’s theme: he asked, “Where is your fire? Where is your rage?” I am too nice, apparently. Later, while in Colorado, I reminded him of his question and he said, “You are taking this a bit too far, don’t you think?” So, my meditation these many months has been on fire. Where is my fire.

All of the elements are transformational; they work at different speeds. Nothing beats erosion for leveling a mountain. Have you seen what wind and rain created in Bryce, Zion, and the Grande Canyons? If you do not understand the word “sacred,” go to Bryce, get out of your car – in fact, get far away from your car – be quiet, and after a few moments you will understand. The world is in constant motion.

Once, a few years ago, I stood on the lava fields, newly cooled, and watched the bright orange lava pour into the ocean, steam hissing a welcome. Lora said, “This is an island being born.” Later, as the sun set, a storm thundered down the mountain like an invading horde; I was drenched in an instant, laughing as we ran to the car, pummeled by rain. I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with the power I felt all around me: the lava, the ocean, and the rain.

And then there is the earth. While living in Los Angeles I rode through a few earthquakes but none so impressive as the Northridge quake. It came in the wee hours of the morning and is the only time I’ve awakened in mid-flight. My dog was flying next to me and I will never forget the look on his face. I can only imagine the look that he saw on mine. I thought I might be dreaming until I hit the wall. It is awesome to consider the transformational power of the quaking earth. In addition to the destruction it opened symmetrical paths of beauty. Neighbors talked. People helped other people. The city rebuilt itself in record time.

I thought about all of these experiences as I stared at the sun, magenta through the smoke and haze and asked, as I have asked every morning this summer, “Where is my fire? Where is my rage?” The sun stared back, silent, grinning a knowing grin, like a good teacher, refusing to offer an easy answer.