Kerri and I are bringing our work together in a new form: Be A Ray! More on this tomorrow
Raquel and I had an extraordinary conversation yesterday. We always have extraordinary conversations that serve to shake loose the penny in my mind that needs to drop. Yesterday’s penny was about the question of a universe by design versus a universe of utter chaos.
So much of this past year seems by design. There have been too many serendipities, too many perfect circumstances, too many uncanny seeming coincidences. Last year I told her I was in a fast moving river racing toward my destiny. I could feel it. I can feel it. Raquel asked if perhaps that has always been true and that I was simply seeing it now.
My response to her question surprised me. I told her that all of my life I’ve had one foot in each universe. When the tides seemed against me or things were uncomfortable, then I was convinced that I was a bobber in a chaotic ocean. When I had one of the mystic/profound experiences that have become the hallmark of my life, when the tides seemed to go my way, I found it convenient to believe in a universe of a perfect design. I told Raquel that this year I’ve finally understood that I can’t have it both ways. I am either a bobber in a vast ocean or I’m here by design. Or, more to the point, I understand that the chaos I experience is my response to the design. Both feet are in one idea. The universe-by-design (a universe of participation and co-creation) must be true in the uncomfortable moments as well as the profound. It has to be true in the ordinary as well as the extraordinary. There is only one tide. It is a game to pretend otherwise.
In the past few years, the theme of my growth has been to finally see where I have been living with one foot in and one foot out – and to at last put both feet in. If you are driving to work waiting for retirement, you are one foot in. If you have a backdoor plan in your relationship, you are one foot in. If you are seeking proof of your faith, you are one foot in. You’d be amazed at what becomes visible, what you see, when you cease dividing your intention, splitting your presence, and stand with both feet in. Kerri and I call this, “stepping into the dot.”
I’m having one of those days ripe with revelations and have been scrambling to capture the insight ripples before they rush down my thought river, around the bend, and out of mind.
One of the ripples has to do with the “As if….” The “As if…” is a tool for actors, self-growth seekers, and human beings in general. For an actor, to act “As if…” opens the door to belief in a character. For the seeker of self-growth, to act “As if…” opens the door to belief in his or her capacities, as if they were a character in the play of their own lives. The “As if” serves as a bridge into a possible future when belief is hard to come by.
When I was younger, a favorite “As if” mantra imparted to me by adults was, “To dress for the job I wanted, not the job I was applying for.” In other words, dress as if I already had the job I wanted. In my case it was lousy advice because donning pants and shirts spattered with paint was not the ladder climbing attire they wanted me to embrace. For me, the elders needed a different premise beneath their “As if” advice. There was no ladder in my paradigm. Dressing for any job felt like self-betrayal on my way to soul death. Of course, years later, having lost my mind, I actually put on a suit and lace-up shoes to coach my first executive client. He laughed heartily as I writhed in my new suit. He advised me to show up as I am, not as what I thought he wanted me to be. Great advice! His quote, “You are an unmade bed and need to own it. It’s why I hired you – because you are different.” As if!
I’ve understood for years that people perform themselves. “As if” can be a kick-starter for a belief-filled performance. It is an illusion-seed that, when watered and tended, grows into the identity you wish to inhabit. In other words, perform the person you want to become and not the one you currently believe yourself to be. Invoke “As if…” and sooner or later you may start to believe in your performance. Sooner or later you may become who you imagine yourself to be. The roles we play are not fixed identities and much more fluid than we pretend! Becoming who you imagine yourself to be is called growth and requires a wee bit of acting.
One of my favorite lessons from the theatre is that character (the role you play, like Hamlet or Juliet) is not something you pretend, it is found in how you do what you do. Characters in plays want something; how they go about getting what they want reveals who they are. So, when building a character, swim upstream. The character will reveal itself through you (the actor) if you identify and take action: craft how he or she does what they do. Young actors have to transcend the notion that acting is pretending. It is not. Action and pretense are two different things. A musician does not pretend to play music and an actor does not pretend to play a character. An actor pursues intentions. An actor acts (thus, the moniker). Actions are the notes an actor plays. Hamlet is the consummate student. He seeks truth. He tests hypotheses. How he goes about seeking and testing determines what we see as a character.
The same might be said of you and me. A human being pursues intentions. We take actions everyday and so, perform ourselves. How we go about our pursuit reveals what we believe. When we have little belief and big, big fear, we have the option of acting “As if…” It’s a loop. “As if…” leads to belief and belief leads to “As if…” Life off the stage is just like life on the stage: it is a cycle of belief and dis-belief. “As if…” is an ongoing growth process. Imagination knows no outcome.
In a recent workshop, after remembering a favorite childhood game, a man in the workshop said, “My imagination opened me to my belief.” Yes. That’s it exactly!
Craig originally wrote a post about the boxes people construct around themselves and the alternative choice of creating a stage. After his post he challenge me to enter the fray and muck about with boxes and stage and I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how much I have to say – I’ve followed the thread for a few days and will probably keep following it for a few more. It’s a rich exploration!
Yesterday I mentioned that I had the opportunity to work with Skip’s Human Centered Design class at the Illinois Institute of Technology in Chicago. I tossed the group into several exercises and experiences designed to help them understand how people story themselves. Specifically, we took a look at language as the building block of perception. We captured on video portions of my time with the students so rather than write about it, here’s clip from the day. [Note:the real riches start about 2:30 minutes in but I thought the students questions might be of use to set the stage so I left it in the cut. They’d just completed an exercise of misnaming things]. Let me know if you find some juicy bits about the boxes we build around ourselves and our attempts to “step outside of the box.”
‘The Box’ by Kerri Sherwood from her album Blueprint for My Soul Craig sent me a link and a challenge. The link was to his recent blog post, Break Down The Box. It’s about how people build boxes around themselves. “Instead of building a box that may later require extra work to remove,” he writes, “I suggest building a stage.” What a great image! His challenge to me was to apply it to my writing. He texted, “It’s relevant to your general topics.”
My question back to Craig was about the word “apply.” Is he challenging me to write about boxes and stages? Is he challenging me to build a stage and stand on it? Both? His challenge came on a day that I said aloud to myself and the universe, “I’m feeling boxed!” His timing was impeccable.
We’ve not finished our correspondence so I don’t yet know what he means by applying it to my writing. To stall I will write what I know about boxes:
1) Everyone has one. Don Miguel Ruiz writes that we come into this earth as free, uninhibited spirits and then the adults around us begin impressing rules and random philosophy upon us. They teach us constraint and we comply. We are a pack animal, after all, and must operate within the greater needs of the community. That’s why there are traffic lights and a proper fork to use when eating a salad. Our greatest need is to belong; The GAP, Old Navy, or Abercrombie & Fitch could not exist otherwise. The need to belong is the driver behind box building. It’s a paradox. Somewhere amidst all of the compliance we begin to assume that we are no good or start making comparisons to others or create standards of perfection that are impossible to inhabit. So, we build a box called, “should be”. The paradox is that, in order to belong, our action is to hide.
2) Growth comes from constraints. No box is built without the need to deconstruct it. That is the opportunity of the box. Joseph Campbell would call box deconstruction The Heroes Journey. In the great mythologies of the world there is a tension between The Right Hand path (what society expects you to do) and The Left Hand path (following your bliss). Both are necessary and, in the end, we all must find the middle way between the two paths. The middle way is known in mythological terms as The Holy Grail. Bliss always needs the participation of others. We are pack animals and need the pack to know where we fit.
3) Constraint is necessary for creative fulfillment. School boards around the nation have the misguided notion that art is the absence of rule and/or discipline. It must be a requirement of school board participation to attend the symphony without recognizing that the musicians on stage have given their lives to discipline and constraint. It might come as a surprise to most people but artists outstrip the military in rule adherence and rigid discipline. The disconcerting aspect for the school board is that the rules and discipline of the artist are self-imposed. They are inner imperatives. Artists do not need a drill sergeant. They need constraints to push against, boundaries to overcome, rules to challenge, and patterns to disrupt. Watch a kid on a skateboard try to learn a new skill (oh, yes – they are artists, too). They might break their arm in the process but the break will just fuel the need to improve.
4) No one sees clearly their box. To return to a Don Miguel Ruiz-ism, we are the stars of our own movie and can never know the movie of another person (and they can never know our movie). The paradox is, of course, as the star of your movie you never get to see your life from any meaningful perspective until lots of time affords you some distance. Even then, you’ll interpret your movie through the lens of having lived it. If you have an inner monologue, you are center stage of your movie and your movie is your box. Here’s the beautiful thing about movies/boxes: they all come with flaws and the flaws are almost always the location of the opportunities. As I recently learned, the Amish intentionally place a small flaw in every quilt because they believe that the flaw is what lets the spirit in. The same might be said of boxes.
I’ve been privileged in my life to work with and direct a bevy of actors and most had to learn to stand on a stage. In fact, the stage frightens most of the really good ones. They understand the power of being seen, the responsibility that comes with visibility. It is simply this: be present without the need to control the thoughts or emotions of another. Be present with them. Offer them a story without the self-protection of trying to control what they see. All stories are maps out of boxes. Or, more to the point, stories are maps out of one layer of box to a lesser layer of box. So:
5) Boxes are like onions. A stage is merely a layer.
Posted on January 17, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative
In 2004 I wrote and illustrated a children’s book, Lucy and the Waterfox. I could have sworn that Lucy was only 5 years old and was taken aback to realize that she’d been around for a decade. Time flies! I recently bought a copy of Lucy since I had nothing in the archives and I will soon release her in versions for ipad and kindle. She’s an old fox and is not available in digital form. It felt funny to buy my own book. I was delighted when she came in the mail! It was as if she was coming home.
It had been a few years since I’d read Lucy so I was taken aback (again) by the parallels in Lucy to the book I just released, The Seer. I’ve been chewing on these ideas for a long time! In The Seer there is a mysterious guide named Virgil who challenges the assumptions of the main character and helps him reorient to a healthier more powerful way of being. In Lucy, a mysterious storyteller emerges from the forest one night; his story stirs deep yearning in Lucy to own and fulfill her extraordinary capacity. Lucy, I recognized, was a seed for The Seer.
Ten years ago I was hired to tell a story in several installments at a conference of health care providers. The conference lasted 3 days and the story served as a thread that tied all the conference segments together. The story also provided a central metaphor for the participants; it served – as stories always do – as the force that forged the individuals into a community. The participants had deep, meaningful conversations because they didn’t get stuck in the superficial, literal levels of their topics. They went into the well through their metaphor and, instead of trying to fix problems they explored their choices and opened to new opportunities.
On the second night of the conference there was a talent show and the organizers approached me and asked if I would tell a simple short story. I had nothing prepared but knew I had a little ditty in my journal about a fox named Lucy. She had a gift and was hiding it because it made other foxes uncomfortable. I told her story and Lucy was such a big hit that night, I received such enthusiastic feedback, that I returned home, illustrated, and published her. The experience of publishing Lucy inspired me: I’d never before thought of myself as a writer. Publishing ideas and stories was nowhere on my personal radar.
A decade later, publishing ideas and stories is the only thing on my radar. I have so many ideas! I have so many stories to tell and more show themselves to me everyday.
I’m delighted that Lucy came home to remind me that in the decade since she was born that I have grown, too, and have a much expanded personal radar. I look forward to the day, a decade from now, that a copy of The Seer comes in the mail and I say, “Whoa. Look at that! I’ve been chewing on these ideas for a long, long time.”
Posted on January 8, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative
I did this painting about my friend Sam. He is a brilliant poet who for years hid his poetry because he told himself the story that his poems weren’t good enough. He’s committed to memory the works of many other poets. At the drop of a hat, Sam can recite the perfect poem to fit any situation. Poetry is in his Irish blood.
He is remarkable in his love of language. In spirit he is a bard though he so feared his gift that for years he vehemently denied that he wrote poems. After cajoling him for months, he admitted to being a secret poet and in a parking lot behind an abandoned building he finally slipped me a sheaf of original poems. The experience was more drug deal than art share and I adored it. It took enormous courage for Sam to share his poems with me. I knew the moment he slipped the envelop of poems to me that I was holding in my hands the tender soul of an artist. It was big magic; like all artists, this man could change the world if he embraced his gift.
I never underestimate the courage and vulnerability necessary for an artist to open him or her self to the possibility of being seen. I am always honored when someone whispers to me, “I have something I want to share with you.” The artist-soul is a wild animal and does not easily come out of hiding.
I am convinced that all humans are artists because all humans have the capacity for presence. Artistry is not something mystic or out of the ordinary. Artistry is a way of being in the world. An artist sees beyond the abstraction of their thinking. An artist sees beyond the separation into the deep, fecund, shared space. Artistry is always about connectivity to that “something bigger” than the self. And then artists share what they see. There are as many ways to share the soul-space as there are people on the planet.
Sam’s poems are brilliant. He’s changed his story. The world outside changed when he changed his story and began sharing his poems. Eventually, when he was ready to let his wild animal run free, he published several poems under the title Fully Human. Find him. Ask him to recite a poem. And then ask him to recite one of his poems. You won’t be disappointed.
Posted on October 30, 2013 by davidrobinsoncreative
[continued from Step Into The Dot]
Our shorthand, “step into the dot,” has a companion phrase: be a ray. It comes from Kerri’s son, Craig. A few years ago, when Kerri was in a particularly dark period, Craig told her that she needed to get out of her yuck cycle. He told her that, instead of spinning in her eddy, she needed to be a ray. She needed to choose to shine.
Choosing to shine begins with stepping into the dot. Remember that “to step into the dot” is to step into the present. It is to move forward in life with all the lessons but leaving the self-imposed limitations behind. The reason to step into the dot is that an opportunity becomes available from the dot that is available nowhere else. The opportunity is to shine.
A few weeks ago we got a puppy (it is more true to say that the puppy got us). It’s been a very long time since I had a dog and I forgot how much a dog wants to please. Our dog, Tripper, (a multi-faceted name: 1) from “road trip,” 2) he’s an Australian shepherd and is very good at tripping me and, 3) he is a trip as in acid trip. Zounds.) wants to belong. He wants to know how he fits into the pack. He wants to understand his world, know the rules of the pack, and he thrives on attention and positive strokes. In this way people are not so different from puppies: they want to belong. They want to know how they fit into the pack. For people, fitting in to the pack has a lot to do with the gifts they bring. People ask, “What’s my purpose?” People want a life driven by their unique purpose. When they fulfill their purpose, people thrive.
The great thing about “purpose” is that it is impossible to fulfill a purpose in a vacuum. It is impossible to fulfill a purpose without the participation of other people. Givers need receivers. Purpose is never fulfilled without impacting the lives of others. We cannot fulfill ourselves without fulfilling others. To serve others is to serve your self and vice versa. It’s a feedback loop. When we finally see beyond our personal story fog, it’s possible to see that the whole gig, all of life, is a service opportunity.
That’s what you can see from the dot. Connectivity. You see the interrelationship of gift giving and receiving. You see that every moment is an opportunity to bring your best game, to fulfill your gift. When you step into the dot, when you step out of the story fog and into the present, everything looks like an opportunity to shine. Thanks to Craig, Kerri and I have a shorthand phrase for seizing opportunity to shine. We say, “Be A Ray.”
Posted on October 27, 2013 by davidrobinsoncreative
Kerri and I have a shorthand phrase for moving forward in life, carrying the lessons while leaving the yuck-story behind. We way, “Step into the dot.” Identity is a funny thing. People tote all of their past experiences with them, which means they tote their interpretations and patterns, too. “I can” or “I can’t” are statements of carrying past experiences forward into the future.
I used to guide an exercise called The Dream Police. The idea is that in five minutes your memory will be erased. On a piece of paper, capture the important stuff that you need to know about yourself. People most often write about their children or moments of epiphany. Some write names and phone numbers of loved ones with the idea that they will be able to make a call and re-learn who they are. We orient according to the past. In all the years I’ve led the exercise, only one person has written her dream life. She wrote about her triumphs and successes. She made it all up. In debriefing she said, “If my memory is going to be erased I get the chance to be anything I want to be. Why not tell myself that I am living a full and vibrant life. Why not be who I want to be instead of who I am.”
Too often we define our lives according to the yuck. We carry forward the reason “why I can’t” instead of standing in the field of possibility that is present in each moment. We can’t see the field of possibility through the lens of the past.
In his book, Aleph, Paulo Coehlo writes about a choice every person has the capacity to make: we can choose to orient our lives according to the past, according to what has been. Or, we can choose to orient our lives according to our soul. The past has little relevance when we orient according to our soul. The soul knows no past. It is like a puppy that is ready to play. The soul is in the present moment playing with possibility. Another word for “playing with possibility” is “creating.”
The opportunity is to orient to the present, not what has been. There is great power available when the past does not dictate the future. Rather, the present is ever-present, always new, always unknown, always learning itself. In the present moment, nothing is “known.” And, what specifically is unknown is…you. To orient to your soul is to step into the dot.
[to be continued]
For a humorous look at the wonderful world of innovation and new ventures, check out my new comic strip Fl!p and the gang at Fl!p Comics.
Posted on October 23, 2013 by davidrobinsoncreative
[continued from Create Flow]
In my post, Step Onto The Field, I inflected two words against each other. I set the word “protected” in opposition to the word, “inclusive.” I wrote:
Showing up is being present with others. It is inclusive (as opposed to protected).
Skip reflected that, “Protected doesn’t feel opposite to inclusive. Yet it is part of what is opposite. Something is missing here.”
Keeping in mind that the post addressed how entrepreneurs’ pitches are similar to actors’ auditions (though this is not what he meant) Skip is exactly correct. When an entrepreneur or actor enters their arena protected, something very important goes missing and what goes missing is any hope of meaningful connection.
When an actor protects him or herself from the audience, they create separation. Hear it: they create separation. They exclude the audience not only from their performance, but more importantly, they bar the audience from meaningful access to the play. They block the audience from participating. And, since stories are pathways for transformation, by blocking the audience from entry to the play, they prohibit all possible transformation.
Over the past year I’ve watched dozens of entrepreneurs pitch to investors and because they show up in a metaphoric suit of armor, they too create separation. They effectively exclude the investor from their story.
In fairness, an entrepreneur’s task can be more difficult than an actor’s task because often investors also show up in suits of armor; investors demand a higher status position than the entrepreneur (whether it is deserved or not). There is armor all around! No one gets to play in this scenario because both are actively creating separation.
Many years ago with Judy I attended a workshop given by O. Fred. Donaldson. His life’s work has been about play (the noncompetitive variety). More specifically, he’s studied how people and animals “cue” each other for play. The cues are universal. His workshop was fascinating because he demonstrated how play is evoked through non-resistance. Resistance reinforces separation. Non-resistance is and invitation. It is like Aikido: with nothing to push against, resistance has no power. It falls away and in the absence of resistance connectivity is possible. Play is possible.
I know this is a gross oversimplification but people are pack animals; belonging is what we desire. In other words, we tend toward each other. We seek to fit. We desire to play. The only way to remove the armor of another person is to remove the armor from our selves. Armor begets armor. Vulnerability begets vulnerability. Armor is a cue to close. Showing up open and available is a cue to open.
For a humorous look at the wonderful world of innovation and new ventures, check out my new comic strip Fl!p and the gang at Fl!p Comics.
Posted on October 15, 2013 by davidrobinsoncreative
The first few decades of my career were rooted in the theatre. In casting plays and assembling companies I’ve held and seen hundreds of auditions. Generally, it was my experience as an auditor (and also in managing auditions for others) that in the first round of auditions an auditor can see everything they need to know about an actor in seven seconds or less. Whether the audition is a prepared piece, a cold reading or some form of improvisation, this “seven second” rule seems to hold. For the auditor, the rest of the audition is usually an act of courtesy or spent hoping that they are wrong about what they already know. Auditors want actors to succeed. They want to be engaged, surprised, and swept into an honest moment. They want to meet the actor on the field of possibility. They want access into the story and the door is always honest action.
What can an auditor see in seven seconds or less that inspires them to call the actor back or put their file in the “no” pile? Probably a more accurate question is, “What can the auditor feel that inspires them to call back the actor?” The honest pursuit of an intention is something that can be felt before it can be seen. This is true on or off the stage, isn’t it? Do you feel it when someone is not authentic? Do you “know it” when you are being told a half-truth? How many times have you said, “I knew it but didn’t listen to myself.” Auditioning others is as an act of listening to what you sense in the first few seconds and the scanner is seeking honesty.
In the past few years I’ve been watching entrepreneurs do pitches for investors. Auditions and pitches are surprisingly similar activities! In both cases, the “seven second” rule applies. Investors know, like auditors know, when they are seeing something honest or something manufactured. An exciting viable idea in the hands of a pretender is a useless thing – just as brilliant plays are routinely slaughtered in the hands of fakers. Entrepreneurs, like actors, are more likely to meet success when they cease giving away their power and show up as they are. Showing up is not passive and has nothing to do with information delivery. Showing up means to share the quest, to bring others along on the pursuit of a dream. Showing up is being present with others. It is inclusive (as opposed to protected).
Rule #1 for entrepreneurs is the same as it is for actors: You can’t determine what others (investors/auditors) see or think or feel or value. You can only bring your best game to the field of possibility and love playing it.
For a humorous look at the wonderful world of innovation and new ventures, check out my new comic strip Fl!p and the gang at Fl!p Comics.
Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.
Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You
The Direction of Intention 