Listen To Horatio

760. 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 dear Horatio wrote this to me in response to my recent post, Look Beyond The Word, post 758. I asked if I could share his thoughts with you (he calls me G):

Artistry, like entrepreneurship, defines a way of being not something achieved.

G,

Yes, indeed. Nice post.

But, that need to achieve something is the yin to the yang you describe. The entrepreneur and the artist have to really, really want the finished product, whatever it is. The painting which they love and caress and curse and despair, the movie that comes to life or doesn’t come to life (omigod… how could I have missed that!?), the business that needs adjusting and many many 24 hour days to flourish. While in the process, they have to love and need their product, too.

You’re right, I think. I agree. It’s a way of being, of seeing, of taking action. But it’s got a goal, it requires organization and commitment, because it’s in the world, part of our mortal span, and want to finish it in time. Before we die. We think it makes life worth it, redeemable. Without that, the way of being would be frivolous. I think that’s the risk, that’s the terror, and the juice. The redeem-ability of life by some accomplishment may very well be an illusion, a fallacy. But we do it anyway. We try. That’s the process. To try. “This painting will connect me to the eternal if I just get it right….”

The adage that “we learn by doing” comes to mind and opens a whole other set of ideas about how and why we draw, paint, sculpt, write, shoot movies, and so on, and then do it AGAIN. But we’ll talk about that later.

A way of being is defined, yes, but I think it also must be in the context of casting your bread on the water, taking that risk of accomplishing something, the risk of achievement. If not, it’s play and fun, seems to me. That’s a worthwhile endeavor, certainly, but it’s not the same thing, in my opinion.

H,
Yes, indeed. Thank you.

Know The Value

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

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”
Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

I once read a series of books in which the main character, a successful real estate broker, so despised the emptiness of his life that one night he took off his clothes and walked away from his life. He literally left everything behind. He stepped away from every illusion that he maintained. From zero, he rediscovered himself and emerged a man rooted in the essential, living in the present. He relinquished the culture of comfort and embraced the textures and struggles of a life unprotected.

These past few months, as I stepped away from what was known and am now wandering, I have thought often of these books and this character. Just as the character learned that his needs were never fulfilled by possessions and always fulfilled through relationships, I am learning that I can only truly offer my gifts to the world when I fully allow myself to fully receive.

In these months I have stayed with Alan, Judy, Megan, Mark and Teru, and Carol; I have traveled from Boston to Hastings to Champaign to Denver and Seattle. I have enjoyed the retreat of my parents’ empty home (they are snowbirds). I’ve received untold kindness and experienced the generosity of friends and strangers. And, the lesson over and over: I need do nothing to deserve it; I need only receive it. In my life I’ve learned to give but have protected myself from receiving and am apparently out of balance. Carol said, as she threw her apartment keys at me, “It’s time for you to learn to receive!” And then she laughed at the pained look on my face. Judy reiterated the lesson. Mark told me I am always welcome to stay. These generosities are worth more than gold to me.

Todd and Lone are keeping tabs on me. Mark takes me to lunch when he knows I’m in town. Chris popped me on the head and told me to drop my illusions – I know more than I am willing to admit. David called as I drove across the country to touch base and hear my voice. Kerri toasts me with java everyday; this list could go on and on. I am like the character in the book. I’ve always known that the real value of my life was in my relationships, I just had no idea how rich I really am.

Shovel Snow

716. 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 shoveled snow. It’s been over 25 years since I shoveled snow, maybe longer. I loved it. I had to borrow boots. The snow was deep and powder dry so it looked like a lot of heavy shoveling but was relatively light. Stan, the man next door, came out with his snow blower. We waved, introduced ourselves and talked snow talk. There was so much snow that I had to shovel again later in the day.

Besides shoveling I let go all of my work. I didn’t open my computer until well after sundown. There was a long nap. There were pancakes and lots of coffee. I sat on a heater and looked out the window. I played. I learned how to make Runzas’.

I thought about Horatio because a week ago we attended a party and met the executive director of a symphony. Horatio and I talked about how, as children, we both loved Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. I hadn’t thought about that story in years. I associate Peter and the Wolf with snow because, when I was a kid and we had snow days, I’d sit in the basement for hours listening to an old record of the symphony with narration. I drew pictures of the wolf eating the duck, the bird circling the wolf to distract it as Peter captured the wolf by the tail. Snow and Peter and the Wolf go together in my mind.

There is a quiet that comes with the snow. That’s why I wanted to go out and shovel it. The worlds’ sounds soften; snow is a great muffler. Perhaps it is because the snow slows the pace of life – today it closed schools, businesses and roads city wide – that it inspires in me an inner quiet. There is a Hermetic Principle that applies: As within, so without. As without, so within. It was so quiet outside that I was silent inside. I mused as I shoveled that, one day, wouldn’t it be great if my inner quiet had the capacity to do for the world what snow is able to inspire in me.

Pay Attention

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

Marcia sent me a gift. It is a small notebook that her father, DeMarcus, made when he was a student. The calendar pasted into the front is from 1922. The leather binding is falling off, the pages are fading, and the notes, written in pencil, are smeared. But the thoughts are clear and sometimes startling. DeMarcus became a great artist in the theatre. The notebook dates from the time of his becoming with no notion of how his desire to be an artist would play out in his life.

The notebook came sealed in a baggy, a note from Marcia was tucked inside that read, “Pay attention to his thoughts on color. They are astonishing. Magic” I’ve not yet read his thoughts on color because I was so taken by the first page. This young man, nearly a century ago, diligent in his dream, wrote to himself: “Pay attention! The details matter.”

It was the exact thought I needed to receive today, a day lost in thought and overwhelmed by my swirling story, caught in the fast moving current. Pay attention. It came from the boy DeMarcus who wanted to see. So I stopped the swirl and stepped out of the fast moving stream. I watched the sun set over the city. I listened to the gulls fight over scraps from the market. I ate an orange slowly, making sure I tasted every bite. I smelled rich dark coffee.

On a large pad of art paper across the room, a line from Emerson is written: When the half gods go, the gods arrive. This is what I learned in paying attention: the half gods move really fast and would have us believe the worth of life is in the pace; the gods arrive when we step out of the panic and into our one single precious moment and pay attention.

Play For Meaning

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

Horatio took me on a whirlwind tour today. We met his art teacher, Jo, and I listened as they discussed artists like Sylvia Plath and Diane Arbus, artists whose work explores the darker shades of life. Both women killed themselves. Horatio posits that their artistry in some ways chronicled their march toward an inevitable conclusion. Like a raft caught in the current, hurtling toward a waterfall, they determined that there was nothing to be done, no greater meaning to be found, and went over the falls.

Horatio and I often stray into the topic of meaning making. What’s it all about? What is the greater purpose and meaning of this experience of life? I’ve decided that meaning is something we make and not something we find. Meaning is something we bring to the dance. However, we come to the dance with great expectations. We look for someone to dance with, we look for an experience that might lift us from the ordinary routine, we yearn for someone to notice us, we want food to eat, a future to create; we seek experiences. We want more. Life is made sweet in the yearning.

We get lost when we think someone else has what we need or that someone else can fulfill our yearning. Our job is to engage life; no one can do that for us. Our job is to bring our selves to life (I intend the double meaning of that phrase). Our job is not to fulfill another person’s need just as their job is not to fulfill ours. The meaning is in what we bring to the dance; if we bring joy there will be joy. If we bring blame there will be blame.

Tonight Horatio and Teru made a lovely dinner and had a cake for my birthday (coming soon!). Their daughter Nina and her beau Keith came along with Nina’s 4 year-old daughter, Jordan. I spent much of the evening learning from Jordan how to play Chutes and Ladders and a cupcake game. The first rule is that there are no rules. The second rule is that because there are no rules things like winning and losing are ridiculous. The only thing that mattered was that we played. She showed up and I showed up and the rest was imagination and wonder. You’ll be surprised to know that in a single evening I played the role of Santa Claus AND was placed forever on the naughty list (my name is written on the list in magenta crayon). It is an existential dilemma of massive proportion that required the creation of a third rule: naughty and nice are relative terms and who needs lists anyway? Meaning is never found in the list and always found in the play. So, as Jordan taught me tonight: play and the meaning will soon follow.

Step Into Not Knowing

702. 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 past 24 hours have been extraordinary. I was witness to an incredible man and teacher, Skip, haul boxes of wine glasses and bottle of wine to his MBA class. He was teaching his students about “not-knowing” and decided to take them into an unknown culture, this complex world of wine. He taught us many things about wine but above all, you can’t ever fully know it, you must engage. To master is to “not-know.”

Tonight Judy made an amazing dinner for her neighbor, Sharon and me. I learned that Sharon is following her heart and, because her heart called, she leapt from the known world, leaving comfort behind. Now she is vital and alive and deep into the unknown. She is, in her leap, practicing “not-knowing.”

After dinner Judy played her harp for me. When Judy plays, the world changes. Magic happens. Watching her play is a gift because she closes her eyes and opens to that force called music that comes through. It is not accurate to say that she disappears; she opens. She joins. And, in the joining, she enters into an expansive state of “not-knowing.” In watching her play, I was transformed because through her I entered that world, too. I joined with the music and expanded beyond my capacity to intellectualize, beyond my capacity to contain or explain. I was gifted with “not-knowing.”

Judy told me that Kim taught her to never let an opportunity for generosity pass you by. I have been the recipient of mountains of generosity from these amazing people who have seized the opportunity to support me in my step into “not-knowing.”

Make It Ordinary

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

A midnight train, an early morning taxi, and a day at the Denver airport. Trains, planes and automobiles followed by a light rail into downtown Seattle and then a ferry to Bainbridge Island. I think in a single 24-hour period I will have only skipped submarine and hot air balloon as viable transportation options, though Judy reminded me that I had not yet traveled by camel. And, the day is not over yet so I knock on wood. These days I can make no assumptions about what the next moment will bring.

The benefit of riding on the rails, in the cab and on the concourse is that I’m very productive in transit. I’m a bit shocked at how focused I can be when rocking across Colorado in the dead of night or in the midst of thousands of noisy airport travelers by day. I finished the first true draft of the book. I caught up on emails (mostly). I untangled a banking knot, I made lists and all the while I watched the amazing dramas that unfold in an airport. I talked with Horatio and Diane and Megan. I had a text fest and toasted k.erle with a great cup of java. Judy played her harp for me just before midnight and it was among my favorite experiences all day.

I’m aware of the varied and glorious textures of this day. The amazing palettes of colors of this life are available if we only choose to see them. I saw the sunrise over the plains. I watched hundreds of small kindnesses and acts of generosity. Many were unknown to the recipient. A man pulled luggage off the train for an elderly couple. A woman quietly helped a young mother herd her children through security, doors were opened for baggage laden travelers, bus drivers waited for tardy riders, a barista left her post to give directions to a lost man and all the people queued for coffee stepped out of line to help.

And think about it – it was just a day like any other day. And, no day will ever be like this one. Little generosities swirl around us. The sunrise will never be the same as it was today; it was not like any other and the same will be true tomorrow. We have the capacity to see. We have the capacity to place our focus wherever we choose. The life we experience is a direct result of what we choose to see, where we choose to stand, how we choose to interpret and what we choose to celebrate. The day can be ordinary or extraordinary and the only difference is what we decide to perceive. Why not make the extraordinary ordinary?

Call Your Name

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

It is not lost on me that I’m unable to get back to Seattle. The initial flight delay set off a ripple of stand-by lists with actual guaranteed seats on planes 2 to 3 days from now. I waved the white flag, let go of what I thought was so important, and decided not to spend 3 days in airports. Instead, I went on a road trip. I made a run for Omaha, renting a car and driving seven hours, into and through a white-out-snow-blowing-so-that-I-followed-the-tail-lights of the car ahead of me because I literally could not see the road. I talked with friends on the phone while I drove. I had hours of silence and quiet. I saw a part of America that I don’t often see because I fly over it instead of drive through it.

When I looked at the ticket agent and said, “I’d rather not wait in the airport,” she thought I was nuts. How could I make the decision to walk away? She said, “But, we can’t change and itinerary, we can’t transfer your flight to another city. You’ll have to buy another ticket.”

“That’s exactly right,” I thought. I would rather go off the reservation and drive, not knowing when or where I will find a portal into Seattle. Spending 3 days of my life sitting in an airport waiting for the smallest possibility of a seat on a plane seemed crazier than walking out of the airport and asking, “Well, what’s next?” I’ve spent too much of my life waiting for something to happen. I no longer have it in me. The ticket agent had a rule to follow and I realized that I did not. Rather, I have one rule and my rule is: don’t wait.

I have a mantra new to this year. It wasn’t a resolution; it just seemed to find its way in: Act. Try. Aim. In other words, practice what I preach: step into the unknown as a way of being, not as a once in a while activity. Act. I don’t need to know where I am going before I take a step. If something seems to take life from me, walk the other way. Try. See what happens. And then aim.

I now have a seat on a plane out of Denver on Wednesday. I will have driven or trained halfway to Seattle before getting on a plane. I’m having adventures, spending time with people I love, and not knowing what tomorrow holds. And, I am certainly more alive now than I would have been had I decided to sit and wait for my name to be called. “Isn’t it time.” I thought as I left the airport in my rental car, “that I started calling my own name.”

Live Everywhere

676. 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 several weeks I have been in gypsy mode. I am traveling from place to place, landing for a few days and then moving on. There is a great gift that comes when you’re on the road as a rule and not an exception: when you’re not living anywhere, you start living everywhere.

I’ve noticed that I’ve let go of the expectation of norms or routines so consequently I am paying attention to the little things – each day is filled with little amazement, little gifts surround me. I’ve realized that when there are no day-to-day patterns, you cease investing in the comfort of the pattern so are capable of welcoming what is right in front of you. You truly begin to live everywhere because every moment is unfamiliar.

There are tiny arrivals in my gypsy mode, resting places but it is as if I am seeing life without its security mask. Sometimes a cliché is a cliché for a reason: the idea that I possess anything or own anything is an illusion. I am at best, a steward. We are all merely passing through. We are, as Jean Houston wrote, “the burning point” of the ancestral ship. Others came before and were witness to their time and have passed the burning point to me (and you). For this brief lifetime I am the eyes, ears, and hands of the experience; I am the witness; we are the stewards of our time. In gypsy mode there is only one question that really seems to matter: Did I open my eyes and ears and other senses to the full experience of being alive? Was I present during every moment of this incredible ride?

Thank Melissa

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

Avalon disappeared into the mists of time. It is there, or so we are told, but it is out of reach to we mere mortals. In the age of reason the mystery retreated to the other side of the veil. I thought of that as this afternoon we drove through fields shrouded in fog towards a rural elementary school. We were visiting Melissa’s classroom; a place alive with magic and excitement and the vitality that is present wherever true learning is taking place. If magic survives beyond the veil then Melissa’s classroom is a portal to that sacred place.

Tom once told me, “You will know when you are doing important work by the size of the tide that rises against you.” Melissa is doing important work and is standing tall despite the towering wave that crashes over her (and every teacher in the nation) everyday when she asks, “Why are we doing this? What does this test or this shabby curriculum have to do with learning?” She asks and others turn away. She is the voice in the crowd that says, “This emperor has no clothes!” And like the child in the story, the truth-teller is shunned initially, hushed by the adults who are too afraid to say, “We know. We see it, too.”

There are plenty of teachers and administrators and parents and business leaders that see it, too. There are many conversations about fixing things. There are endless strategies and punitive measures to raise standards though no one is certain what standards we are raising (hint: test scores have nothing to do with learning; neither do lists or rankings or any other from of measurement). On the surface we are expert at finger pointing and assigning blame and still the emperor prances naked through the streets.

And beneath it all is Melissa and scores of educators like her that know the system as dictated to them is doing the opposite of what it professes. So, she wades into the muck everyday and ignites imaginations and encourages her students to explore, pursue, experiment and make messes. Her students make choices (they control themselves because she teaches them to be powerful): they are engaged in a quest of discovery. Her students are excited to come to school because what they do is real; unlike most of the adults who should be lobbying for their betterment, they are very clear and vocal about what has merit and what has little or no value.