Change Your World (part 1)

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

Almost 2 years ago I began writing this blog because I was walking in many worlds: corporate, educational, artistic,… I was coaching people and teaching and just beginning to see the theme that ran through all of those worlds. There was a common story at the base of the challenges and dysfunction: I called it power-over. There was also a common story at the heart of health, organizational, personal or otherwise: I called it power-with.

Because I began playing with the language of these common stories I’ve more recently come to understand them (beyond the abstract) as cultural stories. Power-with is a culture. Power-over is a culture.

A culture that fundamentally believes that humans have dominion over all life is telling a power-over story. It is a story of separation. It is a story of domination. It is a story of dysfunction. As I’ve recently been reading, power-over cultures are particularly blind to the damage they wreak; they see the world as a resource so the ends are worth the means. These cultures usually end badly (and quickly) when they exhaust their fuel supply. The story of dominance does not allow for interconnectivity so the idea that they are soiling their own nest is inconceivable. They are separate, above it all, consuming. This is our story and we are re-playing the cycle of fuel exhaustion perfectly.

This same story plays out in the individuals that comprise the greater power-over culture. The story is holographic; it plays on all levels. People who believe that they are separate and must control nature must also control their own nature (sin, temptation, thoughts, impulses ya-da-ya-da). It is the separation of self from self – and leads to all manner of insane notions like your mind might be separate from your body or your spirit; or that your ego and your soul are combatants; that your intuition and your intellect are contrary, or that you don’t belong or fit; or that there is a lack of deeper meaning or purpose in your life. Can you hear it? It’s a power-over story. Separations are everywhere in this story: where is your happiness if not right here? Where is your purpose if not within you? Resources like time and energy are limited because if you tell this story you see yourself as limited. I’ll wager most of us have, at one time or another exhausted our personal fuel supply. We see ourselves as consumable resources. In this story, heaven is some other place – it has to be when we have so readily defined ourselves as being in hell (a place where we are consumed).

Lately, I’ve been telling people who inquire that I facilitate culture change; I facilitate a story shift. It’s two way so saying same thing. I do it with organizations and with people; it, too, is the same thing; personal change and corporate change follows the same process. It is to tell a different story, a power-with story. It starts with using a different language which, in turn, engenders a different focus.

When I began writing this blog I thought I’d run out of things to say within 30 days: I saw myself as a consumable, too; a limited supply. I have discovered that when you begin creating power-with, when you begin telling a better story, an extraordinary thing happens: you become the medicine you seek. You become your own self-help book. You begin bringing things to life (careful, there are multiple meanings to that phrase).

[to be continued]

Leave Yourself Behind

627. 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 grandfather is 103 years old. Last time I saw him he said, “Heaven don’t want me and hell won’t have me.” He feels as if he is ready to go yet remains in an earthly limbo. He eats. He sleeps. He waits. He has outlived two of his four children, his wife and all of his peers. He still flirts with the ladies in the lunchroom though it is more out of habit than from ambition.

In every story cycle there is a place where “what once was” no longer exists and “what will be” is not yet come. It is in this in-between place where the old identity dissipates: you are no longer a child though not yet an adult; it is the time of first pregnancy, you are no longer singular and not yet a parent. In a story, the in-between is usually told through the metaphor of a journey; you must leave behind everything that you know to find what has always been within you. Frodo leaves the Shire as one being; he returns to the Shire as another being, having discovered his darkness and his capacity to persevere. Journeys are bitter sweet.

Rumi said, “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” It is ironic, isn’t it, to leave yourself behind so that you might find yourself? To think we will find love in another person only to discover that it is the love within ourselves that we seek.

I am not yet half of my grandfather’s age and yet I already know that heaven and hell are both here – not some other place – and we choose which we occupy. We are both the seeker and the gatekeeper. I am perfectly capable of dividing myself against myself and, therefore, occupying hell. I am also capable of knowing myself as whole, regardless of my circumstance, and that is the door to heaven. And, there is a third “place” that is neither heaven nor hell but the space of the journey; all life is movement after all. There are no arrivals; heaven and hell are rest stops, the occasional oasis along the way.

Dance In The Paradox

604. 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 of my favorite paradoxes lives in these two seemingly conflicting statements: 1) you can only know yourself through the eyes of another, and 2) what others perceive is none of your business; your business is to attend to what you perceive. I believe both to be true.

An infant that lacks touch and attention will die. An adult that lacks touch and attention might live but they will certainly twist, warp, and wither. They will wonder why they live; survival alone on a deserted island is untenable unless there is hope of one day seeing, touching, and knowing another human being. It is the desire to connect, the fundamental need to connect with another that gives us life and purpose. If you are seeking for greater meaning take pause and look at those miracle people that surround you. Everything else is an abstraction. On your deathbed you will review your relationships, not your portfolio.

We are, at the end of the day, a relationship, fluid and dynamic. We are the story we tell of what just happened. We are a story we tell of what we desire to happen. And the “happening” always involves relationship to someone. Think about it: who have you deemed it necessary to know that you are successful? Whose values do you carry forward?

Occasionally we are present with what is, not looking forward or backward but just here. And here, in this place beyond story, it is clear to see that there is only dynamic, flowing relationship.

Our folly is in believing that we are one thing, a fixed singular identity. A separate fixed singular identity. We are none of those things: separate, singular, or fixed. Choose one day this week and pay attention to how many roles you play. Beyond father, mother, daughter son, uncle, niece, nephew, friend, boss, commuter, there are roles you play as you dress, walk down the street; whose eye do you want to catch? What is the story you tell to strangers at dinner parties? Who are you in public? How does that change in private? What about in good days? How does it change when you are feeling down? Who do you want to be? Who are you afraid that you are? Answer six phone calls and pay attention to how you change based on who’s on the other end of the call. Our actions are driven relative to the others that we include in our story.

You are a dynamic relationship and the most mysterious relationship you will ever have is with yourself. And therein lives the paradox. No one can truly know you; no one will ever stand and see through your eyes or know fully what you really think – so their opinions about you have nothing to do with you. What they think is filtered through their lives and expectations. They can’t even really see you through their filters and role assignments. Only your opinions have to do with you because only your opinions originate in you. So, how do you choose to story yourself?

If it is true that you can only know yourself through the eyes of another it is also true that you can only know yourself through what you perceive. To know yourself you must at some point step into the mystery of yourself and on that journey there is no guide to hire. No one can tell you what to find, where to look, or what to believe. Virgil cannot escort you into that cavern. You must step into the vastness of yourself by yourself, and define the kind of relationship you want to have with you. You must see yourself from your own point of view. And recognize that even that is a story.

As I recently read, “truth is not fact.” You are not a fact. You are a truth and truths can only be found dancing in the paradoxes.

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.”

Commune

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

Harry and I talked into the night about communion. Most cultures have their unique version of the communion meal. For the Makah, the whale is their god. To hunt and consume the whale is to take the body and blood of the god into their body. In return, they perform rituals to resurrect the god. For the Mayan, it is the corn that gives life; corn is a god. The people take it into their bodies and become god like; their commitment is to create the conditions for the gods return. They tend to the god. The god feeds them. It is a cycle of life. There is no end, no outcome. There is no rapture. There is a relationship. “This is my body. Take it and eat. This is my blood. Take it and drink.” The form is different; the ritual is the same.

Harry pointed out that regardless of the form the purpose is to commune – thus a communion meal. The people commune individually and collectively with their godhood. They take it in; they become the god. They, in return, perform the rituals and ceremonies; they live in such a way as to give rebirth to the godhead. It is a cycle of renewal. It is a participation sport: it is personal, intimate, an infinite game.

At its most potent, it is a way of living. It is not something confined to a single day of the week or an observance performed once in a while. It is not something you can leave behind when you leave the church. The whale chooses you because you are worthy, because you live each day an existence worthy of being chosen to consume the body, take in the god, and have proven yourself capable of performing the rites necessary to give rebirth to the god that feeds you. It is a mutual responsibility: I will feed you if you will attend to my re-creation.

And, at the heart of this relationship, is this thing we call art. The rituals, the dances, the music, the images are (were) meant to facilitate the communion; the coming together of human and muse to reaffirm the community's identity, to transform and transcend the everyday. Wear the mask and you become the god. Pete told me that he picked up a brush for the first time and froze; to make a mark carried an enormous responsibility. He put the brush back in the can and thought, “I am not yet ready for all that this will unleash and I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

Invest In Your Feet

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

If you don’t count the time I sobbed in a restaurant with Linda Margules, my first public meltdown happened in a shoe store. Shoes have always been problematic for me; I’d rather not wear them at all. I feel as though I am suffocating when I wear shoes. Seriously. I’ve learned to wear clogs and boots sometimes work, too. The key is removability. If I can kick them off in a moment or less, I can wear them. I was always in trouble as a kid because I wore holes in my socks almost immediately.

My meltdown happened at the dawn of my work in corporate America. My friends and loved ones felt that I should, at long last, own some “grown up” clothes. Lora took me shopping and she and Smokey Sally helped me find a few suits. I even bought a tie (confession: I wore the tie once because I felt I had to since I bought it but once it was no longer around my neck I conveniently lost it. Ties are like shoes…). And, since I now had suits, I needed a pair of lace-up shoes.

I knew I was in trouble the moment I entered the store. The place was stuffy and smelled of leather and polish. I couldn’t breathe. The panic was almost immediate though I was able to suppress it until I went down an aisle. I was surrounded by lace up shoes. Lora was talking to me, showing me shoes that she liked but I could no longer understand verbal communication; it was as if her sound track was too slow for the words to take shape. My temples started pounding and I couldn’t make decisions. I kept looking at shoes and all I could see were torture devices, tight prisons, concrete. I know my eyes were darting about, looking for escape because I could see the concern descend on Lora’s face. I think she was asking me what was wrong. I fled. I don’t know if I knocked over other customers or leaped over stacks of shoes; I have no memory of my exit. The next thing I knew I was standing in the street, hyperventilating.

Apparently my identity is invested in my feet. The best advice anyone ever gave me came from a financial advisor. I showed up to work with his team and I was wearing one of my new suits (and clogs). As we left the building at the end of the day he made an observation. He said, “Your clothes can’t mask who you are. You are an artist. You are an unmade bed. That’s why we wanted you. Why don’t you drop the suit and show up as you really are, not as you think we want you to be.” Great advice. I sighed a huge sigh of relief. No shoes necessary.

Who Would You Like To Be?

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

Declan Donnellan wrote an amazing book, The Actor and the Target, intended for actors but I return to it again and again as the lessons are as applicable to life as they are to the stage. Here’s the bit I read today:

“’Who am I?’ is often the first question asked in creating a character but it can be unhelpful. Trying to answer ‘Who am I?’ is a lifetime’s work for an individual, and indeed the more we discover ourselves, the more we realize that we don’t know ourselves at all. If, then, we cannot properly answer the question about ourselves, how can we possibly answer it about someone else? ‘Who am I?’ is an Everest of a question….”

He continues:

“’Who would I like to be?’ is more useful because it is implies an answer that moves. ‘Who would I like to be?’ is even more useful when asked with a near opposite such as: ‘Who am I afraid I might be?’”

The question, “Who am I?” implies that you are singular, that you are one containable, knowable being. It reduces you to an outcome; static and immovable. I love Declan Donnellan’s insight into the better question: “Who would I like to be?” He writes that it’s more useful because it moves. It is an exploration, a question. It assumes a creation, a fluid changeable dynamic process of discovery. There is no outcome. Nothing is absolute.

When feeling lost, we say, “I don’t know who I am.” Yes. Exactly. How powerful might we become if we assumed that life was not about defining ourselves as fixed, as this or that, but discovering each day the infinite fluid possibilities of an unknowable being. The next time you feel lost, instead of trying to be found, engage in the playful creation of “Who would I like to be today?”