Truly Powerful People (196)

196.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Terry taught me to scuba dive in the ocean around Bali. I signed up for a class and was the only student and he taught the class anyway. It took me a few days to realize that Terry was teaching me more than how to dive. He was teaching me about how to be alive. Like all great teachers, the subject matter was not important: the content was the method.

Scuba diving is about buoyancy. The mastery of neutral buoyancy was his first lesson and was the center; all other lessons could be traced back to this simple focus: get neutral. Find that sweet spot of neutrality and release all struggle, let go of all resistance. When you are neutral, you are present. Your breathing slows, relaxes. You expend very little energy; you surrender. You see.

The surrender Terry taught was not the western version: the giving up, waving a white flag, a movement to weakness. He taught the eastern version: giving over to something greater (the power of the ocean), a joining, a movement to power.

I’m still incorporating his lesson ten years later. Get neutral. Surrender. Participate in the power.

Truly Powerful People (195)

195.
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 sunrise today was glorious. The sky exploded with pink, purple, blue and orange. It took my breath away and it brought my mind to creation stories and mythologies. When nature moves me to awe I often go right for the story!

Someone once said that a mythology is someone else’s religion. If it is not yours you read it as story, if it is yours you still read it as story but you invest the story with power, you look to it for guidance, you consider it to be a source. Even if you think you are an atheist, even if you have no investment in the metaphoric or literal interpretation of any story, it would still be worthy to recognize that mythologies matter. They are more than dusty tomes sitting on library shelves, stories from another time and place. They are living things and impact how you perceive and construct your world.

Consider this: if you live within a culture that worships the controlling, angry god, your mythology – whether you embrace it our not – is based upon the notion that nature is corrupt, particularly your nature. Nature (your nature) is to be controlled and transcended; thus the emphasis on reason and the denunciation of body, emotion, intuition, the feminine,… and all other aspects of your self that smack of nature. Compartmentalization is a notion that only has traction in a people needing to divide the head from the heart. Mythology gives context to your perception and provides your orientation to the world. Seeing the world as a resource to be used, a possession to be claimed, moving through life looking for what you can get out of it, trying to distinguish yourself as separate from the rest (while dressing to fit in) are all expressions of this basic story – this mythology.

In this mythology I can appreciate the sunrise, I can feel awe, but I can never truly believe that I participate in the sun’s reappearance.
There are other mythologies and therefore other orientations and some are stories of participation. I often wonder, when nature shocks me into silence with its beauty, what it might feel like to be part of the beauty instead of a witness to it.

Truly Powerful People (194)

194.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

This one comes from Diane and our conversation about sugar. I’m not sure how we got from food addiction to playing the Victim but here it is none-the-less.

The role of Victim is like an addiction to sugar. If you eat a lot of sugar your body craves it; you need it. The same can be said of The Victim. It is an addiction. The notion that things happen to you, that you are buffeted by the winds of time and the tides of circumstance affords a remarkable abdication of responsibility for the world you inhabit and relieves your from all recognition of participation. Life happens to you. “It’s not my fault,” is easy and comfortable. Above all, it is safe (saying, “this is mine to do” is dangerous. You might be seen. You might feel powerful).

The verb at the center of The Victim is “to blame.” Spend ten minutes in any coffee house, bus stop, lunchroom, etc. and listen to the stories people tell. You will mostly hear stories of blame. Once in a blame cycle, like sugar, you need to keep eating it to fill the craving. Once in the cycle you will feed off the blame stories of others – everyone will share their candy with you because it validates your craving and gives you a tribe.

And, if you break the addiction, clean your body of the need, a small amount of sugar becomes too much – it no longer tastes as good as you remember. The same applies to The Victim role. Once you break the addiction, it no longer feels safe (because it is ultimately powerless). You just can’t stomach it, anymore. Everyone will want to share their blame-candy with you and you just won’t be able to stomach it. You will have to walk away because instead of blaming you are choosing.

Recognizing that you are in choice every moment of your life is a powerful addiction treatment program.

Truly Powerful People (193)

193.

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’ve been thinking a lot about a book Paul Watzlawick co-wrote several years ago called Change. This is one of the few books I’ve read that required me to map the discussion so I could follow and comprehend it. There are plenty of books written beyond my grasp but this one was important enough to evoke my inner cartographer. The book is built upon two theories:

 

  • Group Theory – concerned with what happens within a group.

 

  • Theory of Logical Types – concerned with what happens between groups or systems.

 

The relevant distinction for this post, the thing that brought me back to Change, is that Patti and I are currently focusing our work in education and the education system in America is a fantastic study in Group Theory (no real change is possible). Oh, if only I were interested in pursuing doctorial studies (I’d have to learn to write dense tomes but my status would surely rise). Here are the defining characteristics of Group Theory:

 

a)    Grouping is the basic, necessary element of perception (true enough!)

b)    Altering the order of members within a group brings change-ability in process but invariance in outcome (rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic will not keep the ship from sinking).

c)    A member may act without making a difference: Action does not equal change (this is called “first order change”).

d)    New combinations produce change but the result is still within the group. So nothing really changes.

 

A system is a living thing and will fight to the death to stay intact even if it is irrelevant, archaic, destructive to its members, and serves as the impediment to its stated purpose. Group Theory is the way a system fights to stay alive! It provides the illusion of change, action for the sake of action: First Order Change. Standardized testing is First Order Change. No Child Left Behind is First Order Change. Tying teacher pay to performance is First Order Change. Shuffling a deck of cards is First Order Change, talking about content as separate from method is First Order Change, imagining that the purpose of education is to provide a better batch of consumers or workers for a factory floor that no longer exists is First Order Change.

 

Action does not equal change. Rearranging the order of things within the existing system will continue to bring change-ability in process but invariance in outcome. It will certainly provide the illusion of change for a while, at least until the next election cycle or until the next generation of students dulls their minds enough to survive the system (and learn to say to their kids, “If it was good enough for me, it is good enough for you.”).

 

I wonder what it will take for us to desire more than “good enough.” The world has changed considerably since 1850 (seriously changed, not rearranged); we continue to swap the furniture in the factory and wonder why it is failing in our new world order.

 

I can’t help but use this quote again:

 

“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.”

R. Buckminster Fuller

Truly Powerful People (192)

192.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Sometimes I think it is helpful to look at the world through the principles of design, as if all of life was a composition. Principles, in this sense, are the overarching truths of this profession called “design.” They form the “code” that we point to when we say, “that was a great design!” They can also help identify what makes a great life. They are useful principles in identifying and making life’s compositional choices.

Listen to these words as principles for a life well lived: Balance, Rhythm, Proportion, Emphasis, and Unity. These tasty words are ripe with promise! Balance asks, “Where do you place the weight?” It is a question of distribution that can be symmetrical or asymmetrical. Where do you place the emphasis in your thinking? Are you seeing the hardship? Do you focus on the obstacle or the possibilities? Where do you choose to place the weight of your thinking?

All of the principles are descriptions of relationship. For instance, the concept of unity describes the relationship between the individual parts and the whole of a composition. Rhythm creates a sense of movement, and establishes pattern and texture. We story ourselves according to the patterns we create, patterns that are regular, organic, or progressive – all are questions of relationship.

One of my favorite principles is “The rule of thirds.” This rule recognizes that the most interesting compositions (lives) are those in which the primary element is off center. Divide any visual frame into thirds and place the compositional element on one of the dividing lines. What is it to compose a life that is intentionally off center? It is to create movement. I work with lots of people seeking greater meaning in their lives and inevitably they need to leave their seat of safety (stasis), they must step out of the secure center to create movement, and walk into uncertainty.

No one awakes in the morning and says, “This is the day I will knock myself off center.” However, if you are feeling stuck in your life or that there must be something more, you might remember the rule of thirds. Leave your comfort zone for an hour and see what happens. Movement and relationship are at the heart of good design and a good life. The good news is that symmetry (balance) is available even when you are consciously moving off center. It’s a paradox, to be sure, just as stillness is available while you are in action. Paradox always makes for good design!

Truly Powerful People (191)

191.
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 Lora and I hauled 7 sacks and 1 box of books to a used bookstore. Our shelves have never been this empty. This month we’ve cleaned out our closets, tossed mountains of paper and files from the office and I purged my studio. This need for space is primal. It’s as if we were possessed by a force – it makes no sense yet demands immediate response. We’re acting out of instinct; there is change in the wind and we can smell it. Space must be cleared.

The books we removed were not novels or pleasure reading, they were the “anchor” books, the source books necessary for work, the collected resource for a career. Taking them out of our apartment was the same as saying “I’m done with this part of my life now. I will never be that person again.” Of course, taking off one identity necessitates the creation of another. Now that space has been cleared, the question hanging in the air is, “Who will I/we become?” Are we on the edge or have we already stepped off?

Many years ago, before I left Los Angeles, I gave my theatre library to my friend Albert. Hundreds of plays, books on acting and directing, a collection that I’d spent years gathering; I had to rid myself of them. They morphed from treasure to burden in a matter of days. Once divested of my books I left LA feeling released, somehow. I drove into a future with no idea of where I would land or who I would become. I was exhilarated, standing squarely in the burning point of my life with no illusion of safety or security.

Almost twenty years later I enact the ritual again only this time I am not driving into a future looking for answers or the fulfillment of something that I don’t already possess. I am not running toward or away from anything. This is less about a new layer, a new suit of clothes, and more about a movement to the center. This is simplicity, a reveal-ation. This time I am not going some other place but sitting quietly as the burning point of my life.

Truly Powerful People (190)

190.
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 believe we are living in a time when THE OLD STORY is colliding mightily with THE NEW REALITY. It is an opportunity for change but like most times of great potential change, we hold on with white knuckles to THE OLD STORY. Change is frightening precisely because it is unknown. It is easier to hold onto the monkey bar than it is to fly toward the next place. Our circumstance is dire because the pace of change is blistering so the immensity of the denial necessary to maintain THE OLD STORY is…absurd.

As Marshal McLuhan wrote, we humans are great at stepping into the future with our eyes in the rear view mirror. It’s as if we live life in a rowboat, pulling for a future with our backs to where we are going. The occasional glances over the shoulder help us spot a destination but our eyes are fixed on the shore from which we came. Safety lives on the shore behind us (we think).

As Roger once said, “I believe among a human beings greatest capacities is the capacity for denial.” Denial often looks like this: “Things are okay just as they are,” “I wish we could return to the good old days,” “Let’s get back to basics, return to our family values, do what we know works.” Or, just listen to our education, political, and economic conversations. Denial also likes to pretend that these things are happening to us; waking up is simply the acknowledgment that we are the creators of it.

 

Truly Powerful People (189)

189.
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 initiated a new practice in my life. This summer was very difficult, perhaps the most difficult stretch of my life, and I fell into some old patterns and deep dark valleys.

Here’s the practice: When I wake up, before my feet hit the floor, I ask myself this question: what do I want to bring to this day?

It seems like a simple question until you consider the possible responses. Do I want to bring anger to this day? Anxiety? Do I want to infuse this day with despair? Shall I bring a big dose of depression? How about investing in blame? That is always a salty sweet snack! Those possibilities do not exist outside of me. They are mine to choose or not.

I’ve been amused by the answer that has been the most dynamic, most interesting and vital to climbing out of the trenches: I want to bring my curiosity, every last bit of it. I want to bring all of my inquisitiveness, 100% of my capacity to not know. That’s it. That is my choice for what I want to bring to my day. You’d be amazed at the difference in the world I see since deciding to bring curiosity instead of my resistance.

I am reminded of two things each morning as I ask myself this question: 1) choices of significance always come down to matters of my being and have very little to do with aspects of my doing, and 2) I may or may not have choice in my circumstance (things happen) but I have infinite choice about who I am within my circumstance.

Truly Powerful People (188)

188.
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 first time I stepped over a person sleeping on the street I was horrified. I grew up in the burbs; if someone was collapsed on the street it meant they needed help. It was early in the morning, my first day in San Francisco. I was 22 years old. I rushed to the man laying on the cement and my friend Roger grabbed my arm, “Keep walking,’ he said, “There’s nothing you can do.” I stepped over the man and kept walking. It was unnatural. I didn’t believe that there was nothing to be done. And, I kept walking. Roger was quick to point out the people asleep in doorways, on benches, beneath cardboard,…; once my eyes were opened I saw people scattered all over the city, hundreds of people asleep on the street. It was as if an earthquake hit the city and its residents were afraid to go back into their homes. “What happened?” I asked. “Reagan cut funding for the shelters,” Roger said. “The economy sucks.” Even then those answers seemed too simplistic, completely void of responsibility. This is how we learn the rules of community.

That was 1983. Today I walked by the courthouse in downtown Seattle. The park next to the courthouse was like a refugee camp. Every park bench served to support makeshift cardboard shelters. People slept beneath every tree and formed a line adjacent to the fences. Sleeping in the day is necessary if you have no home to return to at night. For a moment I thought it was a performance art piece, the actors having placed themselves on the ground in an orderly composition. They were so still. I felt no horror and had no impulse to help. Instead, I was more concerned with looking at them for too long; I am supposed to not notice. I am a man of my times and have internalized the rules of community.

Earlier in the day I’d read a passage about Marshal McLuhan and how he often wrote of the human tendency to dismiss an idea or experience by naming it. Neil Postman called it “label-libel.” Attach the right label to it and you needn’t think about it any more.

“Homeless,” I said, feeling nothing. “The economy sucks,” I intoned. “Nothing to be done,” I whispered, wishing for the days when I had access to my horror.

Truly Powerful People (187)

187.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

He asked me, with eyes downcast, “Yes, but when will I believe that I am whole?” We were sitting on the stage of an outdoor theatre. It was a hot summer night after a not-particularly-good-rehearsal. This young man, an actor, came dangerously close to being fully present, alive and available in his scene; he came very close to actually being seen without his armor. It scared him and he fled. I was secretly proud because he was brave and daring to come so close to his power. Now he was fully invested in pummeling himself. Had I a whip, a hair shirt, and a wee bit of salt to offer him he would have gladly added the torture to his self-abuse.

“You will believe that you are whole when you stop investing in the idea that you are broken.” Not a very useful response, but there it is.

A wise old mentor once told me that you can only give an actor one significant note a day. Give them too many things to incorporate and nothing will move forward. Give them the note to chew on and leave them alone to chew. So these are the things I did not say: When you deem that it is alright to be afraid, when you consider it useful to feel what you feel without a need to alter it to service the opinions of others, when you stop beating yourself for trying, when you stop abusing yourself for making strong offers and reward yourself instead, then you might feel whole. Wholeness is not something you attain. It is something you are. Feel it. Broken is a learned behavior, it is the hallmark of a people that reject nature, particularly their own nature; it is a story guaranteed to keep you hiding (and, that is the point of the, “I am broken and need fixing” story – it is a central story, necessary in the maintenance of a culture of control). And, above all, I did not tell him that it is a useful thing to struggle with; finding yourself is the whole point of being alive – or perhaps better said: finding yourself whole is the point of being alive. Wrestling with it makes for a good story and great life.

Belief is never the issue. Chew, baby, chew.