Truly Powerful People | The Direction of Intention

Roll Up Your Sleeves

Posted on February 9, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Plumber” by Marcia Milner-Brage

I’ve never owned a house so I’m not much of a repairman. I don’t come with tools or know-how. So, when the bathroom sink plumbing failed yesterday, I was contemplative, which is to say, not much use. I watched Kerri roll up her sleeves and get to work. She crawled under the sink, swore like a sailor, and pulled apart the offending pipes. I ran to fetch tools, paper towels, buckets, and anything else that she needed. I became the plumbing equivalent of a sous-chef.

All the little rubber rings (a technical term, I’m sure) in the pipe joints failed. I like to think that after many years of fine service they simply decided to retire and since they started their careers together they retired together. It was a group retirement without prior notice.

Since we’d entirely deconstructed the fittings, we decided to replace everything so we went to the hardware store, stood in an aisle and consulted with a man who knew less about plumbing than I did. Kerri rolled up her sleeves, swore like a sailor (the unhelpful man fled), and she began pulling parts off the rack until she’d discovered what she needed for reconstruction.

Like true plumbers we had coffee and delayed the inevitable descent beneath the sink. After a healthy interval, since all the heavy lifting and brainwork was already done, I did the deed. Following the example modeled for me, I rolled up my sleeves, swore like a sailor (though my repertoire of words was less imaginative than Kerri’s), and crawled under the sink. Like a control tower helping a passenger land the plane after the pilot passes out, Kerri talked me through the assembly. I was triumphant when the pipes did what pipes are supposed to do, when no water dribbled to the bathroom floor, when the sink was once again open for business.

In my work and my life I rarely experience a sense of real completion. It’s the reason I like to do dishes: there’s a clear beginning, middle, and end. Right now I’m trying to find ways of getting my book into the world and I’ve run through what I know to do. I’ve exhausted my first level of ideas. I realized that the challenge is a lot like plumbing. At the beginning, contemplation is not very useful. Asking the question, “How will I do it?” is necessary but needs to come somewhere in the middle of the process. And, “how” is never a definitive answer, it is a good guess at a next step. “How” never reveals itself until after the job is done.

I work with lots of people and the number one block to meaningful action is the question, “How?” Yesterday in the role of plumber’s apprentice, I learned what I teach: the answer to “how” is this: pull things apart, put your hands in the muck, swear like a sailor, see what’s there, ask for help, know when help is or is not useful, look at the pieces, run and get buckets because there will most likely be a mess. Then, take another step based on what you find.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

For hard copies, go here.

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Sit With Sadness

Posted on February 7, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

Demeter by David Robinson

I awoke this morning deeply, profoundly sad. It is unusual for me to emerge from sleep with sadness; I’m generally a happy person. It was the brand of sadness that has no attachment to a reason. I was earth-sad. I’ve learned that when I come into possession of a sacred sadness, I need to pay careful attention to it rather than struggle to find a way out. It will inevitably illuminate something important if I sit with it, feel it to my bones, honor it, and listen.

I brought sadness with me when swam out of my dreams and broke the surface of consciousness. It was as if I was pulling a drowning man from the ocean floor to the surface; he was heavy and I was exhausted by the effort. I gasped for breath when I broke the surface and I can only imagine that my companion, sadness, gasped, too. I lay in bed. He sat with me. Our breathing calmed. Both of us were quiet. I wanted to say, “What?” but I know better than to force the conversation. Sadness talks when sadness is ready.

Khalil Gibran wrote that, “Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.” In his Letters To A Young Poet, Rainer Maria Rilke advises, “Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write: find out whether it is spreading its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied to you to write. This above all – ask yourself in the stillest hour of the night: must I write?” If the answer is yes, Rilke advises the young poet to build his life according to this necessity.

I believe everyone has an inner imperative. For some it looks like having a family. For some it is tending a garden. Some need to travel. Some people need to seek spirit. It’s hard to explain a drive that must either be satisfied or kill you – especially when that drive looks like an art form. What must you do or die? What inner necessity transcends physical comfort or safety or security or measures of success? Twice in my life I denied myself my artistry in an attempt to have a normal “career” and twice I nearly died (not metaphorically). Of course, on the up side, following an inner imperative makes you bullet proof. Social norms wad like wet tissue paper in the face of do-or-die necessity. Fear has no footing when the alternative to acting on the imperative is to die.

I’ve known since I was a small child my answer to Rilke’s question. After a long silence, Sadness looked at me this morning and said, “Well? Are you ready to redesign your garden?”

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

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Step Into The Storm

Posted on February 6, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

Canopy by David Robinson

We took a walk at midnight last night. It was snowing hard. For a while we watched the storm from the comfort of our living room but the swirling snow was like a siren’s song; it was too beautiful not to sail into it. We put up a sham resistance for a few moments and then surrendered. Piling on layers of clothes, we strapped on boots and hats and gloves and stepped into the storm.

The snow was blowing so hard that it stung our faces so we laughed and pulled our scarves up to our eyes. We looked like winter bandits or strange band of arctic Bedouins.

Drifts formed and sparkled in the streetlights. More than once we stopped to admire the sweeping forms, nature’s sculpture. We high stepped through the drifts, stood still and listened to the wind through the trees, turned our backs to the blowing snow and let the wind push us toward home. An hour later we stepped back into the house, grateful for the warmth and chattering about our adventure.

I remember these words from another lifetime: I’d rather be alive than comfortable. A midnight walk in the snow seems like such a small thing, but as we stepped into the flurry I was aware that our choice to take a walk was the choice to engage rather than merely witness. So much of my life has been lost in the decision to witness instead of getting cold and messy and uncomfortable. Isn’t it too easy to turn on the television and watch life happen or complain about how things are run while refusing to participate in the process of running things? I’ve learned that it is much more fun to play than to watch the game. Sometimes the game is grimy and you get hurt but that is the cost of playing.

I’m watching an organization wrangle with growth and change. As always happens in a change process, there comes a moment when the people involved have to decide whether they want to sit in the warmth of the house or step toward the siren’s song and get messy, cold and grow. They can’t have both. Life is like that. There is a certain satisfaction to looking out the front window of your life but there’s nothing to compare with stepping into the night, holding hands and being part of the snowfall.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

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Filed under: Awakening, Truly Powerful People | 2 Comments »

Take The Train

Posted on February 5, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

It’s Friday night and we’re on the train from Chicago. We’ve just spent a great day wandering through the Art Institute with my brother, the professor. He’s in town doing portfolio reviews for potential graduate design students. There’s nothing better than going through an art museum with a man who’s spent his career teaching aspiring artists. I admire him and treasure the rare days that we get to spend together. I learn something new each time we have the opportunity wander and talk.

Our train car is slowly populated by people carrying musical instrument cases. There are guitars and banjos and penny whistles and contraptions that I do not recognize. They get on the train at various stops but it seems our car is the rendezvous spot. A woman named Kate joins them. She sits across the aisle and tells us that she is the singer of the group. They gather once a month and head north to Kenosha (our town) to play Irish music at a place called Pete’s. “Best fish fry in town,” Kate says as she offers us chocolate. We are now part of the family.

Just then, the man sitting in the seat adjacent to us opens his case and pulls out a banjo. A man sitting next to him asks, “Is it time?” Banjo man nods and others pull their guitars and harmonicas and whistles from cases and pockets. A man with a penny whistle starts to play and banjo man picks up the tune. The guitars join. They know Kerri is a musician and Kate says to her, “We take requests.” They want Kerri to sing with them.

The train car is transformed into an Irish music jam session. Commuters tap their feet and applaud. A backpack filled with beer appears in the aisle. The conductor walks in and smiles. He was hoping the musicians would be on the train tonight. He accepts a chocolate, refuses a beer (“I’m on duty!”), and banters with banjo man. They seem like old friends though their entire relationship transpires on Friday night train rides to Kenosha. Banjo man invites the conductor to Pete’s and the conductor asks if they’ll still be playing at 1am when he’s off work. This is a ritual that they perform each trip. “Someday!” they both agree, knowing that it is not likely to happen. It would spoil the magic of their once monthly encounters.

By the time we reach our stop, the end of the line, perfect strangers are laughing together, sharing stories, clapping with Kate and the boys, sharing chocolate and beer, and feeling that their random choice of train car was not so random after all. The week of toil and work is transformed. I hear a man say to his seatmate, “It was a good week, I think,” and I wonder what he might have said had the musicians not opened their cases. I wonder if he’d have acknowledged the presence of his seatmate had the musicians chosen another car. Sometimes we miss the simple miracles, the seemingly small moments in which huge events occur. When was the last time in the harsh anonymity of an urban world that you put down your smart phone, turned to a perfect stranger, shared a chocolate, smiled and told them about your week? It seems so small but is in truth profound for a stranger to reach a hand across the chasm and say, “It’s nice to meet you.”

This is the power of the arts and our general inability to recognize the profound in the small moment is one reason why we misunderstand the purpose of the arts. People go to war because they cannot find a way to reach across the chasm and touch the humanity of their earth-mate. A car full of commuters went home less lonely on Friday night and a few were swept by the music into a place called Pete’s where they ate some fish fry, drank some dark beer, and celebrated nothing more than being fully alive.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

For hard copies, go here.

Filed under: Art, Power, Truly Powerful People | 4 Comments »

Take The Time

Posted on February 4, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

Marc Chagall ‘America Windows’

I finally saw Marc Chagall’s ‘America Window.’ It’s at the Art Institute of Chicago and has long been on my must-experience list. It’s a long list! Unlike most bucket lists, my list cannot be contained in a bucket and I have no illusion that I will experience everything on the list before I die. It’s not possible to experience everything on my list in a single lifetime. I keep my list to remind myself that my life is both finite and that this life holds more miracles than any single life-bucket can contain. Finite lifespan nests within the infinite awe.

The Window provided me with an extraordinary perspective flip. When first approaching it I thought, “How spare!” It was breathtaking in color but seemed narratively sparse, like a Mark Rothko instead of a Marc Chagall. And then I stepped closer and the story of the Window began to emerge. An entire world opened for me. The longer I looked the more I saw. The more I saw the more I wanted to look. It was as if I was at first hypnotized and then drawn into the world of the Window. When I finally decided to leave, I walked several paces away and turned back for one more look. The world that had at first seemed spare was now too full to comprehend. I was seeing beyond my thinking.

What a great metaphor for the process of stepping into presence! It’s a process of moving from the conceptual to an experience. Our thinking, our relationship with language, requires us to generalize and a generality is always an abstraction. It is made up. For instance, right now, looking out my window, I see many “trees” and, in truth, I’m not seeing them at all. I’m seeing the abstract concept “tree” that I attach to many, many unique forms. I’m seeing what I expect to see. If I take the time to go outside and touch, smell and feel them, I see that each “tree” is vastly different than all the others. No two forms are ever the same. They are vastly different than my expectation. It is not until we take the time to move beyond our words that we regain our capacity to see.

Chagall, like all great artists, knew this. He knew that people need help seeing and that seeing is vastly different than looking. Vital life, dare I say the rich meaning of life, is available when we learn to see beyond our abstractions. Vital life (the infinite) dances in front of us all of the time. It is the role of the artist to help us move beyond our expectation and engage with the dance. The Window reminded me that sometimes we need only take the time to open our eyes and see.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

For hard copies, go here

Filed under: Art, Seeing, Truly Powerful People | Tagged: art, Chagall, perspective, presence, seeing | Leave a comment »

Stand With Hope

Posted on January 31, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

Untitled Narrative by David Robinson

Here’s my gorgeous quote of the day. It came from Barney during a conference call with Skip. We were talking about yesterday’s striking quote, “lost is the new normal.” Barney reflected that being lost (not knowing) is a beginning. He said, “It necessitates that we stand in the presence of hope.”

Isn’t that elegant! Do you remember the last time you stood in uncertainty and whispered quietly to yourself, “I do not know what to do?” Did you recognize the moment as a beginning? Why is “not knowing” what to do so frightful? What assumption set requires us at all times to know? Knowing what to do is, at best, an illusion.

“Not knowing” is the beginning of learning. Learning has nothing to do with knowing. Learning has to do with exploration. Life has nothing to do with knowing. Life has everything to do with experience and engagement. Every educator, mentor, guide, and leader should listen to Barney’s thought.

What if we understood that being lost was nothing more than a beginning and the gift of “not knowing” was that, for a moment, we might stand silently in the warm presence of hope? What if we understood the role of student to be a long walk in the presence of hope? Can you imagine who we might be as a society (and as individuals) if we understood the need to test for the presence of hope before we ran tests for knowing stuff?

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

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Filed under: Education, Perspective, Truly Powerful People | 1 Comment »

Choose. Tell.

Posted on January 30, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

Shadows Of Imagination by Maggie’s World

I went to the doctor this morning to have my yearly physical. This year I am in a new town with a new doctor so the first thing we did was discuss my medical history. A medical history is an interesting lens through which to see your life. Each health event defined an era just like certain songs call up a specific time period, “Ah, that was my favorite song in my junior year!” The only difference, of course, is that the health history locator is less likely to call up pleasant memories. I had the frozen shoulder era and I winced when I told my new doctor about it. He said, “Those are painful.” No kidding.

I can look at my life through the lens of relationship. I might see my life through the lens of achievement. I can certainly see my life through the foible lens. There are specific experiences that define a complete shift of perspective. 9/11 is one of those; I remember sitting in front of my television that bright September morning watching the towers fall and thinking, “The world will never be the same.”

In my life, there is the pre-Bali and post-Bali line. I went to Bali with one understanding of reality and came back with an entirely different set of assumptions. In my life story, 2013 will serve as one of those lines. I went on an unintentional pilgrimage and on the road I found angels and demons, I found the depth of my ugliness and the enormity of my joy. I dropped a lot of weight, literally and metaphorically. There is not much I fear anymore.

There is a lot that I love and am grateful for. Those are lenses, too: Love, Fear, Gratitude, Joy, Anger, Need,… And, not to labor a point, but they are lenses; they do not exist separate from the seer. I am capable of understanding my life through the lens of anger. I am capable of making sense of my life through the lens of fear. I am equally capable of making sense and defining my life through the lens of Love. I choose the lens. I tell the story.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

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Break Out The Crayons

Posted on January 29, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

John’s Secret by David Robinson

It is very cold and the entire community is hunkering down. I love these days of bright sun and super cold air. It’s like a sweet tart, a collision of opposites that pop the taste buds into awareness. I want to go outside – and do – for short periods of time; soaking up the sun, while the cold air bites, is life giving. The paper warned that, “frost bite is possible in less than 10 minutes! Stay inside!” Clearly, the good folks at the Kenosha News like their sweet without the tart.

Three times this morning I’ve crossed paths with a metaphor: Life is a blank page. It is a metaphor that is like the sun-cold of this day: it has two edges. The first refers to life as wide open to infinite possibility. There is nothing like a blank page to bring out the crayons. The other edge refers to emptiness: life as a void. Once, I was diving at night and we turned out our flashlights. It was the darkest dark I’ve ever experienced. It was darker than a cave because the water gave the darkness substance. There was no visible form. No boundary. No way of knowing up from down (unless you relaxed). A void is like a party invitation to the monsters in the mind. Peering into the blank page allows the shadow to peer back at you.

The first path crossing of the blank page metaphor came as a question, “How do I stay an open, blank page?” The second and third came as expressions of discomfort: my life is a blank page. Help! Both the sweet and the tart variations are invitations to life. The path may look and feel different but both lead to the same place. Pulling out the crayons and scribbling invites play. Standing in void, filled with fear, invites awe, silence, and the recognition that there is no path: it is all made up so what do you want to make up now? The terror is in the infinity of choices. There’s nothing to be done but to start scribbling.

As I was writing the last sentence the phone rang and it was Skip calling. He’s writing a book and is having a few folks read the early drafts. I laughed when he told me some of the feedback and insights his book evoked. Skip works with entrepreneurs and this is the phrase that made me laugh out loud: ‘Being lost is the new normal.’ The world is moving too fast for us to really know where we are or where we are going. So, the metaphor comes a fourth time. There’s nothing to be done but break out the crayons.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

For hard copies, go here.

Filed under: Metaphor, Truly Powerful People | 2 Comments »

Step Toward It

Posted on January 28, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

from the cartoon series, FLUB, by David Robinson

[continued from Expect The Possible]

Change processes are funky in a society wholeheartedly dedicated to maintaining comfort. Comfort and significant change are rarely bedfellows. Real change might include a sigh of relief or a temporary feeling of elation, but melting down an old form and forging it into something new requires plenty of heat and a sizeable hammer.

If the first Great Impossibility in transformation is the expectation of knowing “how to do it” before you do it, an insane expectation, the second Great Impossibility is insanity with thorns. It, too, is based upon a false expectation: the walk into the new thing will be a cakewalk. It won’t.

Pain plays a role in the body. It alerts us that something is wrong. Pain plays the same role in a psyche. It alerts us to discord. It wakes us up. It makes us look for options. It prompts us to seek health and the relief of pain. It motivates us to consider trying something new.

In story cycles, it is pain and discomfort that prompt the protagonist to step away from safety and the known and go on an impossible journey. Going into the belly of a whale is not supposed to be a party. Discomfort shakes the tree of perspective. It opens our eyes to whole new and previously unseen fields of opportunity.

To remove the discomfort is to stall growth and minimize potential.

In organizations there are people whose job it is to manage change. The change manager is supposed to make the change as painless as possible. It assumes the horse of change wears a rein. It doesn’t. Unless you are rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, change cannot be managed.

Often in organizational change, people lose their jobs and that is the equivalent of an identity loss. In personal change, people lose their way. Being lost in the woods or not knowing who you are is rarely fun. It is, however, painful and there’s nothing like discomfort to fuel movement toward something new.

Expect it. Court it. Walking into a fear is never fun but slaying the dragon you find in the fear is triumphant. The walk into fear is necessary to find the dragon. They go together. Just as life is not vital without the knowledge of death, transformation is not possible without discomfort. You might find that most of the pain actually comes from the attempt to avoid the pain. Step toward it.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You

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Expect The Possible

Posted on January 27, 2014 by davidrobinsoncreative

from the Flub series of cartoons by David Robinson

There is a Great Impossibility that looms when people or organizations step toward the creation of something new. See if you can catch it. It is a false expectation that is subtle but pure insanity once you see it. The conversation always goes something like this:

“We are trying to create something new but we’re having problems.”

“What’s stopping you?” I ask.

“We don’t know how to do it. We can’t move until we know how. Can you help us?”

I never answer this question. The only honest answer is, “It depends on what you’re willing to see and on your courage once you open your eyes.” That is not a very useful response. So, I usually ask, “What do you think you need help with?” That question is always a show-stopper!

Did you catch it? Did you see The Great Impossibility? It lives in the expectation that knowing “how” is a prerequisite to creating something new. The Great Impossibility is the belief that “how we do it” can be known ahead of time. “We have to know before we can step.” It is impossible. You can’t know. The skill is in learning to take a step anyway.

“How” is a trail that becomes visible after the path has been walked. “How” can only be known after the new thing is created. Think about it like this: if you know how to do it, you will inevitably recreate the old thing; it may have a new look but structurally it will be a repeat. If you follow a known path you will arrive at a known location. Creating, innovating, and learning, to be vital, are forays into unknown territory. They are explorations. They require leaving the known world behind for a while. They require exploding the expectation of “knowing how.”

The second Great Impossibility: expecting the walk into the new world to be comfortable. That’s a post for another day.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You.

Get hard copies here.

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