The Direction of Intention

807. 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 world was different when I woke up today. For weeks I’ve been wading through some confusion. Big questions yawned in front of me like a field of shifting boulders; the geography would not stand still so my maps were meaningless. I’d watched the boulders shift for weeks. I feared stepping into the field. All I knew to do was to watch. And, in my sleep last night, finally, the pattern emerged. The path was crystal clear. All that was required was to let go of a dream that I held dear. I had to say good-bye to an ideal. Holding the dream was at the heart of the shifting boulders. The moment I let go, the boulders stood still. The path was simple, clear, and necessary. I let go during the night. I awoke to a different world. I sighed. The inner quiet returned.

It’s a paradox when you discover that your dream is also your restriction. Or, perhaps it is more accurate to say that the attachment to a specific form of the dream is restricting the flow, limiting the possibilities. Dreams can take many forms. Most of the time I know enough to hold the dream and not the form. This time, the little kid in me stamped his feet and cried, “I want that one!” Why can’t I have that one? When I paid attention it was clear that every step on the path that I desired required pushing. I was forcing a direction and the energy pushed back and was hurting me. And as I pushed, as I forced the path, the only visible impact was to hurt those I wanted most to love. I realized that I was hurting everyone. I was hurting myself the most. The boulders started shifting because I was pushing. The resistance stopped my forward motion. I became too tired and scared to walk. I wanted my dream in a specific form and no other. The boulders moved faster and became more lethal.

And then I let go. To hold on would be to do more damage. To keep pushing would only cause those that I love more pain. When I let go the boulders not only stood still, they disappeared.

To what dreams do you cling that might be the source of your turmoil? What ideals are so lofty that they cannot reach good soil in which to take root and grow? Are you unknowingly sourcing your own discomfort? What are you forcing to happen when all indications are that it shouldn’t happen? What might show itself if you let go? What might come forward if you stopped pushing? In transformational presence coaching we talk about partnering with the energy; to partner with energy one must first listen to it. To partner requires paying attention to what is, not what you want to be.

I know these things. I teach them. And, I learn them again and again. The world always changes when we stop pushing long enough to sit down, survey the field, and listen. The hard work is rarely about the creation of the new. The hard work comes with admitting what is necessary to let go.

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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?”

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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.”

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