Step Away

761. 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 actions necessary to create change are often counterintuitive. For instance, increased efficiency comes from moving slower, not from speeding up. Great love stories are filled with examples of the counterintuitive. For instance, the time and space between Odysseus and Penelope made their love powerful. Yearning creates closeness. Missing heightens appreciation. Being away from home is the best way to fully appreciate home. Perspective is gained by stepping away.

The point of a pilgrimage is to find the essential, to inhabit the center. You must journey to be still. Not to hammer too hard on a cliché but life is a pilgrimage of sorts. We walk a path that is both well known and well trod by previous generations – we know the end of the story – and yet the path we walk is unique, completely individual and surprising. I will live the metaphors in my way, experience the cycles of death and rebirth, know order because I have experienced chaos, and only live fully if I know that my time here is limited. Boredom is only available to those who have forgotten that they will someday die.

I have been wandering for months. Each day I recognize how little in this life I actually control. My wandering has brought into crystal clarity what is important and what is not. Wandering is a great way to become found. Tonight I taught a class for entrepreneurs and did the opposite of what I know to be useful; I strayed far from experience and kept them locked in analyzing and abstractions so although the discussion was interesting, it was not very useful. I stepped away and affirmed what I know in my heart to be true. Talking about life is not living, talking about learning is not learning, and talking about love is not loving. The experience must come first in order for the talking to be useful.

Leave Sorrow

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

Sorrow is a strange land. It is located deep in the continent known as Heart and is a place renowned for its fragments. It claims and celebrates a culture of pieces with nary a nod to the possibility of wholeness. Beneath the community coat of arms is the question, “What happened?” No one in the community attempts an answer as that might change the very nature of the place. The residents of Sorrow are committed to maintaining things as they’ve always been. To seek a change in their situation, to move to another land might require some soul searching. It would certainly require initiative and the recognition of choice, something the locals haven’t considered for generations.

As you might imagine the sky over Sorrow is mostly overcast with light rain or drizzle. The geography is as flat as the expectations of the inhabitants. To live on a hill is a burden. Who needs a view with downcast eyes and frozen internal gaze? “Why bother?” is the phrase uttered most by residents when faced with a challenge.

No one in Sorrow plants gardens as budding plants bring a sense of hope and wonder. Those emotions are eschewed. Houses are rarely painted. People make do with what they’ve got. People hold on to what they know. Children are taught to curb their imaginations so that they might not grow to want something better.

Outsiders are often disturbed by the flat nature and dull acceptance of the residents of Sorrow. Tourists have been known to ask the locals, “Why don’t you dream of something joy filled?” Or, “What keeps you here? Why not make a change?” The locals shrug their shoulders as if to say, “Why bother?” Later in the pub, seeking commiseration, the locals will tell the tale of the tourists asking annoying questions and will reinforce each other in their sadness by agreeing that, “They just don’t understand what it means to be dedicated to life in Sorrow.”

A little known statistic and curious fact: no residents of Sorrow where actually born there. There are no natives. Some moved to Sorrow without prior knowledge of the character of the land, some were compelled to move there temporarily for work or perhaps relationship. All stayed without coercion or restraint. In the end of the day, they chose to take up residence. They chose to locate in Sorrow.

Back on the bus, the tourists stare out the window and quietly ask, “Why would anyone want to live there?”

Make Your Choices

749. 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 saw a man nearly beaten to death. Four men jumped him. Pedestrians ran to the man’s aid. A bus stopped. Police were called. I could not look. I did not want those images in my mind.

A half a block away a young man helped an old woman in a walker cross the street. She took longer than the time allotted by the light so the man stepped into the street and shielded her. I stared. I wanted that image in my mind.

I ran for a bus and the driver either did not see me or did not care. He pulled away as I reached for the door. For a moment I was angry because I decided that he didn’t care and then I chose the other possibility. I did not want the anger in my body.

I debated about telling someone of the love I felt. It seemed scary to say out loud. For a moment I was silent and then I chose the other possibility. I wanted to feel the love in my body. To say it is to release it. The warmth flows both ways.

These are our choices, are they not?

Tell The Other Story

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

Etched in the mirror behind the counter of the Cherry Street coffeehouse is this thought: Love and Kindness work everyday. On the wall opposite the mirror, so that it reflects in the mirror, is a large bright red heart. Heart reflects heart. Kindness begets kindness.

Last week, during a difficult moment, Megan-the-brilliant told me that she silently repeated the Buddhist loving kindness meditation, “May I dwell in my heart,….” After the moment passed she told me the meditation helped. Instead of defensiveness, she chose to breathe in and reflect loving kindness. Love and kindness are intentional acts, especially in difficult circumstances.

It seems so simple. What we put out reflects back onto us. Today as I rode on the light rail to my studio I imagined the riders as mirrors of each other. I saw small acts of kindness: a woman gave up her seat for an elder, a young man helped an older woman with her luggage, a security officer made sure a tourist knew how to get a ticket and pointed her in the right direction; it went on and on.

I wonder how much of the kindness we see? It happens all around us but do we see it? I hear about the other stuff, the complaints, the obstacles, the abuse; I see it, too but it is less frequent than the generosities. I hear less often about the small acts of kindness but I see them everywhere I look. They are literally everywhere. I wonder what world we might create if we told the story of our acts of kindness as often and with as much gusto as we tell the other tales?

Love Until It Hurts

LOVE UNTIL IT HURTS
708. 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 have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” Mother Teresa

Today is St. Valentine’s Day – though you will read this the day after.

When I was a kid in school we decorated sacks and wrote valentines for everyone in our class. By the end of the school day we had a sack full of I-love-you notes and a belly full of cupcakes and sweetheart candies. Some of the valentines in the sack mattered more than others. For instance, in 1st grade I was in love with Nancy and when she put a valentine in my sack I was elated. And then I was scared: was she as excited by my valentine as I was by hers? I delight in Valentines Day because it is (or can be) a festival of the irrational; a day acknowledging the transcendent power of love. All day I thought of people I love dearly and although I only told a few, I basked in how many people on this planet I hold dear in my heart and wanted to send sweetheart candies printed with the phrase, “Be Mine!” Valentine’s Day is a celebration of things that cannot be measured.

All day I’ve smiled at the men passing me on the street carrying large bunches of flowers or strings of heart balloons. These rough tattooed or polished business suited men basically carrying a large sign signifying, “I AM IN LOVE,” looked sheepish and vulnerable to step beyond their macho and publically share their tender heart. It was refreshing to wander through the financial district surrounded by normally steely-faced men in ties blushing in excitement and fear: would their Nancy return their affection? As I passed through the metal detector in the Federal Building a box of heart cookies was delivered to the security staff. The men and women in badges grinned and shared; they were thrilled.

The Odyssey is one of the great pieces of literature in the western world. It is the story of Odysseus trying to return home to his wife Penelope after the Trojan War. He tries for years to return home with the gods and elements working against him. He loses his ship and his crew. He survives monsters and Cyclops and witches. He is stranded and held hostage. He suffers terribly. He loves until he hurts and in his hurt he finds more and more love. This greatest of Greek epics is a story of the triumph of love.

Stories of great love are not stories of ease. Stories of great love are about reaching through fear, the irrational, the elements, stepping into the unknown and with the gods stacked against you, and yet you continue; still you persevere. Step into the hurt. Reach across the fear and take their hand in yours. Take a chance and say, “I love you so much that it hurts.”

Receive

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“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.” Rumi

In the past several weeks I have traveled many places. I’ve spent some time in the house where I grew up. I walked the streets of my boyhood and revisited the sacred sites of my childhood. The houses in the neighborhood seem so small. I’ve had the opportunity to revisit memories, to stand in spots where life seemed to bring overwhelming experiences; these, like the houses, now seem so small. I’ve chuckled more than once at monsters that I used to tote and how, from this vantage point, they seem like stuffed animals, cuddly toys. That is the power of memory, our great capacity to re-member our lives with every visit to the past.

In my walk-about I am consciously pulling down the barriers. I am surrounded by people who love me and whom I love. I am astounded by a generosity of spirit that greets me everywhere I go. I am learning to receive and the curious thing about receiving is that you need do nothing but open or perhaps surrender. The only requirement to receive love is that you show up. Who knew!

During this period of wandering I’ve been working again with the Parcival story and thinking about the moment in the story when Parcival removes his armor. Armor protects but it also restricts. Armor is a great way to not be seen. In order to want to take off your armor you must first put down your sword; you must change your idea of the world and your place in it. Carrying a sword is a great way to keep love away. After dropping your sword, you must be lost for a while and break your rules. Parcival’s sword shatters and he weeps. He removes his armor and follows a hermit into the woods. He stops seeking, stops trying to prove, suspends the fight and starts living moment to moment. And, when he’s forgotten about roles and knights and proving, the Grail castle reappears. He steps inside unprotected and claims his inheritance. He becomes the Grail. Love finds him when he stops looking for love.

Sometimes we wear our past like armor. We hang onto injustice, we identify ourselves by the trauma, and we claim our limitations as if we were born to bear them. I’m learning that these are the barriers we erect against love. To drop the armor all that is required is to let go of the past and re-member. The love, like the Grail castle, is waiting for us. As the hermit says to Parcival when he turns and discovers the castle, “Boy, it’s been there all along.”

Feel The Possibility

650. 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 in the backseat of Lisa’s car. It is night and we are driving one of those amazing highways that knows no large city. This road is a ribbon connecting the occasional community, none with more than 10 stoplights. It’s been several miles since we passed through the last town and it will be many more miles until we see another light. My face is resting on the window because I cannot believe how many stars are visible when not obscured by the glow of a city. And I am counting my great good fortune because on this night there is a meteor shower. It looks as if stars get so excited that they have to flame and run. “There’s one!” Megan calls. “Where?” Lisa says, peering over the steering wheel. “You missed it.” I rest my face on the glass so in love with this moment and my two companions that I can barely breathe.

We pull off the road so we can gaze at the stars without worrying about driving. We stand on the edge of a fallow field, shivering in the cold winter air, necks craned to the sky. It is not lost on me that we are returning from Kansas where we attended a Launch for presenters; a workshop that, when we are old and rocking on the porch, we will look back and say, “That two days with Kevin Honeycutt changed the trajectory of my life.” And on the way home from a life changing experience called a Launch, the universe decided with great humor to coordinate with Kevin and gift us with a meteor shower. “This is what love is supposed to feel like,” I think to myself, linking arms with Megan who gasps, exclaims, “Oh My God!” and points to the latest sky streaker.

Shivering, I remember Holly from my coaching class having an epiphany, saying, “I feel possibilities. I make lists of them, all of the endless possibilities! They are visceral, like stars! It’s like, constantly discovering a new star, feeling the possibility – the gratitude extends to the possibility and the possibility extends to helping someone and the helping circles back to me! It’s a cycle. It’s an adventure and I feel it!”

“OH!” Lisa, Megan and I gasp and point at the same moment. “Did you see that one?” we chime in unison.

Look To The Little Things

582. 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 and I talked late one night about the little things in life; we both agreed that they are the most significant things, those little moments that we almost always miss. She told me of being stunned into silence by the yellow leaves falling in a perfect circle beneath a tree. No other tree in the park was shedding its leaves. This single tree was ringed by a brilliant yellow circle of it’s leaves and in the morning light, it was electric. The next morning, on our way to the airport, she took me to see it. I gave her an assignment: I asked her to go to the tree the following morning, take off her shoes, and walk in the circle of leaves. I am waiting for a full report.

Sometimes the small things surprise you: you discover the circle of leaves. Sometimes you create the small things: you drive to the circle in the early morning light, take off your shoes, and walk through the brilliant leaves. I am practicing moving though my life looking for the small surprises. It makes me move slower, to expect the surprises. I am never disappointed as each day, everywhere I look, I see the little miracles, the kindnesses, the generosities, the electric trees, the mesquite smell in the air.

I am also practicing creating the small memories. Last week I stepped into the river. I climbed a fallen eagle tree and peered into an abandoned nest. I threw bark in the water to make a splash. I ate slowly my chili and smelled a warm, freshly baked cinnamon roll. I splashed paint with a little blonde miracle. I sat before a fire late into the night, drank wine and talked of small things.

Dance A Circle

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

We drove up Mount Lemmon to have a picnic and to scatter Margaret’s ashes. She loved the mountains of Tucson and there is no better leaping place for Margaret’s soul than the top of Mount Lemmon. We found a perfect spot, a view for miles, a place of utter beauty and inspiration. She would have clapped her hands together and said, “Perfect!”

Mary Ann made our picnic from the leftovers of Margaret’s celebration of life party the night before and we feasted and laughed. We told more stories. We waited for the right moment. Lora and her brother climbed down the rock face and discovered the place where they wanted to establish Margaret’s alter; it was an almost perfect circle of soil nested in this world of rock; it held a single hardy, sturdy tree. Her grandchildren built a simple altar: wild flowers, stones, crystals, roses, and a photograph of Margaret in her prime. We spoke words and read poems. And then, we took turns spreading some of her ashes. It was too solemn and Dante, the youngest of the grandchildren, somehow knew…. She took the sack of ashes and descended further down the rock face. We stood above and watched as she very slowly, at first very carefully, began to release Margaret with the wind. Dante’s gestures were large and soon took over; I do not think she noticed when her gesture became a dance of giving Margaret back: Dante danced Margaret. Margaret danced Dante. The circle of life peaked from behind the curtain for those few gorgeous moments. Time stood still.

Dante finish her dance. The curtain fell closed again. Ordinary time returned. We climbed back to our picnic spot with the simple inner quiet and satisfaction of completion. Margaret was free. Dante had showed us the circle. Mary Ann asked, “Does anyone want a brownie?” Life, once again, began to flow toward the ocean and with chocolate and friends and family we left the mountain transformed.

Choose Love

559. 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 a recent coaching forum call, Alan said, “Choose love. No need to ask how or fret about it. Just choose it.” We were doing an imagination exercise, working with taking radical steps. The possibility of choosing love without a qualifier was revolutionary for many people on the call. No need to modify or justify your choice. Just choose it. Choosing love, as it turned out, was a radical step.

To many people on the call, choosing love as the organizing principle, as the baseline for all other action seemed so far out of reach as to be impossible. Choosing love was an abstraction, like walking on the moon is an abstraction, something that is imaginable but certainly not doable.

What is love? Is it an achievement? Like a moon shot, does it take complex mathematics and the latest technology? Is it something we find? Is it something we manufacture? There are entire industries built upon the search for love and the inevitable disappointment. Hearts are opened and hearts are broken so the choice of love must always come with strings attached, right? The strings are certainly untenable. Is this love?

Think about the implications in the lyric, “Looking for love in all the wrong places….” Yikes! Love cannot be something you choose if you believe it is something you seek. To choose it, you must already have it. How can it be that we imagine ourselves separate and distant from love?

As Ana-the-Wise tells me, “Love is neutral.” Making bargains is not love; trading pieces of yourself in exchange for attention or affection is not love. If you are giving a part of yourself away, suppressing yourself, editing yourself you are engaged in something but it is definitely not love.

Here’s my theory: to choose love is to choose yourself. This choice will move you to the top of the list. It will require you to be seen, to embrace your greatness, to stop minimizing yourself, and most importantly to drop the illusion that anyone can fill you up or tell you how it is to be done. You must love yourself to choose love and that choice has no back door; to love yourself means you give up all escape fantasies and must own your power. Can you imagine it?