Learn To Trust

StackedRocksIn 2013, I went on a pilgrimage of sorts. I blew up my world, destroyed my patterns, and let go of most of my possessions. I left my apartment, my relationship, my stability, my safety and for months wandered without knowing most of the time where I’d be the next week. It was (and continues to be) the most transformational time in my life.

Angels showed up to help me at every turn. They gave me places to stay, support, friendship, reflection, reality checks, hugs and dope slaps. Friends checked in; more than once I received a text asking, “Where are you? How are you?” People fed me. Homes opened for me. It was a year of faith training. Many times I stopped and said to myself, “You can’t see it, but help is just around the bend.”

Once, many years ago, Roger and I were walking the Lake District in England. It was pouring rain. Roger had a terrible fever and was nearing delirium. I was desperate and afraid and did not know what to do but keep walking. We were miles from the next village. As panic was about to overtake me, a motorhome (yes, a motorhome in England!) came bumping up the road behind us. It stopped, the door opened and a lovely South African family asked us if we needed a lift. The made hot tea, gave us towels, and talked about the wonders of the world. They dropped us safely at the next village where we checked into a hostel and stayed until Roger’s fever passed. That family saved me from my fear and taught me a lesson about generosity and faith. They are a minor miracle in my life story.

In reflection, my pilgrimage was a journey back to the living. I was as Orpheus, ascending from the underworld back to the light. I could not look back or I would loose an essential part of myself. Each step was an act of faith. As I walked my way back to life, my love followed, ever closer, until I was restored.

When I was younger, walking in the rain with Roger, I saw fear. Since then, I’ve learned how to place my focus, to direct my thought and my eyes. I’ve learned to see what is around me not what I think is around me. This year, stepping one day at a time, I learned again to look into my present moment. There is no fear in the present. There is only support, friendship, generosity and opportunity.

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

Wake Up

ELDERS

The Elders by David Robinson

Many years ago I took a class called Art and Transformation. Over several months we studied the art of different culturals, specifically cultures that understand art as central to their health and wellbeing. It is not correct to say we studied: we made art. We drummed our way into trance and drew what came to us in the trance. We participated in a sweatlodge to find the symbols necessary to make medicine shields. We meditated and made sandpaintings. We sat still in nature, drew with our nondominant hand, gathered dream symbols, made mandalas and explored what it means to be connected through art to “something bigger.”

In the weeks following a class session, we painted work inspired by the class experience and then gathered to share our new work. It was amazing to see the change in my own work when I was rooted in the deeper rivers of life. When I was working from the actual experience of connectivity – and not a mental abstraction or a concept – my paintings startled me.

We worked for months – consciously –  with transformation as the central impulse driving our visual forms. I learned through the class that “transformation” and “connection” were the same thing. Growing in consciousness is almost always a recognition of unity. As Joe said, “The universe tends toward wholeness.” Becoming more aware, opening the doors to greater consciousness, is how that tendency toward wholeness shows up. We see.

I also realized during the course that “story” was central to transformation. Art in its purest form is meant to be the keeper and transformer of the identity of a community. Identity is a story based on certain agreements a community makes about nature and time and god. Story needs context to make sense. I know this sounds like a loop and it is. Transformation is usually a movement toward wholeness (unity) and the movement is made visible through a change of story. I used to say, “Change your story, change your world,” but stopped because the phrase generally invoked wrinkled brows, protests and confusion. Most folks see their story as “reality” and will do anything to defend their reality. Initally a change of story can feel like an assault on reality.

I was once called on the carpet by a superintendent because a play I did with students challenged the reality of the teachers and parents. The superintendent shouted, “Art is supposed to entertain.” Well, yes. Art can entertain. Art is supposed to challenge, to shake the tree of assumptions, to help the community see itself. Art is supposed to help a community ask, “Is this who we are? Is this who we want to be? Is this what we believe?” I sighed and asked  the red-faced superintendent, “Why are you so upset?” Her response: “The play made me uncomfortable.” Yes. Powerful art will always make us uncomfortable. Growth is always in the direction of discomfort. When the universe within us tends toward wholeness we will inevitably walk into vast fields of discomfort. It is how we wake up and see.

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

End The Ambiguity

Photo by Paulo Brabo

Photo by Paulo Brabo

I’ve been reading books about training a puppy because I have a puppy who already knows how to train me. Whenever I need to level the playing field I buy a book. I’ve bought several on puppy training and still I’m being out-maneuvered at every turn.

The notion I’m reading over and over again in my books is that puppies are happy when there is no ambiguity (no grey zone – see yesterday’s post: Exit The Grey). Puppies don’t do well with debates. They require a clear and consistent message.

In this regard, people are no different than puppies. Children prosper when they know the boundaries. People play when they know they will be safe. Artistic freedom is often defined by the constraints. Doug Durham, a brilliant teacher of at-risk youth, once told me that his job was to draw boundaries and hold them: kids know they matter when the adults hold a clear, fair, and consistent line.

Coincidently, I’ve also been rereading The Mastery of Love by Don Miguel Ruiz and it turns out that fear stories (stories of enabling) are filled with ambiguous grey zones and the subsequent debates that weak boundaries breed. To master love is to practice love. To practice love is to eliminate the grey zone. Eliminating the grey zone requires knowing what is yours-to-do and what is not yours-to-do. It is puppy simple: taking responsibility for your happiness is yours-to-do.  Taking responsibility for the happiness of others is not yours-to-do. There’s no grey when the message to your self is clear and consistent. There is no grey zone when your message to others is clear and consistent. Life becomes the mastery of love.

Assuming ownership for your own happiness ends the ambiguity. Paradoxically, a black and white line opens life to a full range of color. When you understand that your happiness is your responsibility, there is no one else to blame. What remains is the recognition of love without condition; something my puppy knows without doubt and is diligently attempting to teach me.

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

Exit The Grey

Pieta with Paparazzi_David RobinsonThe universe delivered a hammer-on-the-head-message to me this past year. It showed up in the books I read, the films I saw, and the conversations I had. It hammered me for months before I decided to pay attention. The message is simple: get out of the debate.

The debate ignites inside whenever there is a grey zone: the places where we ignore a decision or abdicate a responsibility. It’s the conversation inside when we’ve not made a choice and/or are waiting for circumstance to decide for us. The debate happens where we have yet to draw a boundary when we need to draw a boundary. It splits the inner monologue into two voices. “Stop. Go. No, stop. Go. Ahhhhhhh!!!”

Getting out of the debate means to be clear. It means to choose to be clear. Make a choice. Walk the path with eyes wide open. If you don’t like the current path of choice you can turn around or cut across the field. You can always choose to stomp through the tall grasses and make your own path or fake a crop circle. And, there is always available the choice to stand still and do nothing. Standing still never requires justification so no debate is necessary. Choose to stand still and see the stars. Feel your heart beating. Smell the hint of fireplace smoke in the air. Listen to your beating heart for a clue about your next choice. The choice to stand still will always lead to a yearning. It will inevitably lead to a step.

I’ve learned that clarity does not mean “being right.” In fact, “being right” is usually a sign of the absence of clarity. The need to “be right” is a blossom of fear. Inner clarity means to walk with your head up, eyes and heart open. It means to embrace the moment and the mess. It means to be available to learning.

You never lose time when you are clear; you gain perspective. You gain experiences. You embrace your moment. You no longer believe in illusions like “mistakes” or “failure.” You walk strong. You practice grace. You see.

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

Bark With Enthusiasm

CircusDogThis is my first snowy winter in many decades. I grew up in Colorado so coming back to the snow is like coming home. My recent move to the shores of Lake Michigan has heightened my awareness of the rhythms of the seasons. I’m like a traveler in a foreign county; everything is new for me. The locals move through the snow and cold as if it is commonplace – and for them it is. For me, it is extraordinary, shocking, beautiful, mysterious, and magical. I love it. I forgot how the snow invokes deep quiet. I forgot the sharp sting of the air on my face, the chilly slap into the present moment. I’m present a lot on the shores of Lake Michigan!

Tripper, our dog (a name derived from “road trip,” also know as Tennessee Tripper, also known as Tripper-dog-dog-dog, Sled Dog, or my current favorite: Circus Dog) has never experienced winter. He’s only been on the planet for six months so snow is an adventure to be licked. Ice is a curiosity to him that involves barking – as if ice was a creature with ill intention. I love taking him out at night. Together we stand still in the crystal air and listen to the trees groaning and popping in the cold. He’s particularly taken by the whoosh of wind through the treetops. To Tripper, the wind is a being that whispers in the night and he is as yet undecided if the whisperer is friend or foe. I stand with him in his indecision. I, too, am undecided whether this whisperer is friend or foe.

Sometimes I think that Tripper and I are in the same stage of development. I have never been here before. I do not know the cycles or customs. I am in awe most of the time and the remaining moments are ripe with utter confusion. Either way, awe or confusion, I am grateful for seeing through new eyes, for seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, for appreciating the cold slap of the air, the sharp sting in my lungs, and for a furry companion that reminds me that all of life is a reason to jump and bark with unbounded enthusiasm.

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

Ask Sam To Recite

The PoetI 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.

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

Start With The Book

title_pageTom was a man still connected to the rhythms of the land. His personal rhythms ran so deep that it scared some people. They felt inauthentic around him. He could see beyond appearances and roles. He had very little patience for pretense. More than once I watched someone lose their strut and cower in his presence. After the encounter he’d look at me and sigh, “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Tom could see. He made me understand that I, too, could see. On a particularly frustrating day for me he said, “Your blessing and curse is that when you look at people you see their gifts.” It’s true. I can see. My gift is to help others see their unique gift to the world. I used to think it was mine to help others embrace their gifts, too, thus, the source of my frustration that day. “Don’t they see!” I exclaimed and Tom laughed. He said, “You can help them see it. The rest is not your concern. Most people will run from their gift. Most people are afraid of what they can be. You can open their eyes but they have to choose to believe what they see.” That lesson took me a few more years to learn. I can help people see their gift. I cannot help them believe in the power of their gift.

Last fall Tom died. In November I decided to let my blog-writing-fields go fallow so that I might at last publish a book I wrote in the spring. It is a book about seeing. It is a book about how to see. Originally it was meant for entrepreneurs but my trusty reader clan slapped me and said, “Stop being so narrow. This book is for everyone.” So, I gave it a new very long subtitle as if to say, “Regardless of what you do, this book is for you.” After all, everyone needs to see.

And so, as I step back onto the blog field, I bring with me my newest book and a vastly improved personal gift of seeing. The book: The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator…You. It is available in digital formats (for ipad and kindle) though leanpub.com (if you want to publish and don’t know leanpub.com, you should check them out). The hard copy edition will follow soon.

2013 was a master-class in life for me. It was a hot fire. I met my most ugly self and also found the best of me. Although I’ve been able to see my gift for years; I’ve now forged my belief. So, if you can’t see your gift, if you are stuck in search-and-rescue mode, if you are running from what you know is yours to do, I can help. Start with the book.

Work With The Energy

Sometimes I think a spiritual path is nothing more than clearing out the lies we tell ourselves. That sounds like harsh language but when I think about it, all of the illusions I’ve ever perpetuated were built upon drama-stories. Drama stories are always rooted in fear. They are steeped in an agenda that I pretend I do not know. They provide reasons why I can’t do something. They justify victimhood. They give me the illusion that I have no choices. Drama-stories are lies.

Moving through the illusions is largely a process of letting go of the justifications and defenses that constitute our personal dramas. The more we clear – the less we need to defend – the clearer our capacity for connectivity. It’s simple really: justification and defense are walls that we erect between life and ourselves. They create separation. Drop the defense and the walls fall. Life rushes in.

Lately, in my current cleaning phase, as I release the latest layer of lies, I’m coming to re-understand a phrase I’ve used for years: work with the energy and not the story. Everything is energy assigned to a form or purpose and that is true of every thought and story that passes through our heads. Thought is energy given articulation. Energy is constant but the forms are transitory. I can work to change the story by telling myself another story (an affirmation, for instance) or I can simply transform the energy, detach from any story. Yesterday morning I slipped into an old pattern and began telling myself a well-worn story of woe. The story felt tight, isolating, suffocating; it was spiraling down and I felt as if I was collapsing. I finally heard that still small voice inside saying, “This story is a lie,” and I wondered what would happen (thank you, Joe Shirley) if I forgot about the story and simply reversed the spiral. I detached from the lie (it was a lie, after all), felt the energy and worked with it to change directions. In a matter of moments I bobbed to the surface. I could breathe again. In a few more moments I felt restored, even energized. There was no more drama-story. There was no more reason why I couldn’t do everything that I want to do. There was one simple action, one small step. And then another. And another….

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.

Feel The Peace

Last night I went to the Taize service. It is a meditation service with lots of candlelight, repetition of music and lyric, and great opportunities for silence. It is hypnotic and peace-full. It was crackling with energy though I recognize that sounds paradoxical. Lately in me peace is vibrant.

Two days ago I talked with Heather who is starting a coaching business. The focus of her practice is based on the premise that outer space reflects inner space. Inner clarity often comes when outer clutter is cleaned and sorted. Inner space opens when outer space is organized. As I move into my new home, Kerri and I are cleaning and sorting. We’ve cleaned our space of multiple bags of old clothes, ancient files, furniture, and equipment. We are opening space and will work on it all winter. This week I will close my business to open space for the next possibility. To me, Heather’s premise is right on. I feel the space opening inside me.

Many years ago Ana challenged me “to make all the world my studio.” That challenge has been my North Star. She asked me to erase the boundaries between art and not art. Erase the boundaries between sacred and not sacred. I’ve learned since Ana issued the challenge that, like my house, I needed to cleanse myself of several trash bags of old stories (bad patterns). The trash stories concern what is mine to do and what is not. I’ve tossed out notions of who I think I need to please. I’ve dumped loads of obligations and expectations. As the space opens I’m more able to clarify my gift. I routinely ask myself these days, “What is my service (how do I bring my gift to the world)?” The cleaning now reaches deep. I have much more space than trash. I now understand that for the world to be my studio the space inside me must be vast so the space outside can be infinite with possibility.

Saul recently taught me to address myself to my concern and no one else’s. He told me I was all the time orienting myself to others concerns. He said, “Look beyond the opponent and place a soft focus on the horizon in the field of possibility. In this way, you will have no obstacle. You will offer no resistance.” Saul was teaching me to clean house. He was teaching me to seize the great opportunities that become available when the tug of war ceases and all that remains is vibrant crackling peace.

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.

Listen To The Lake

I’m learning the many moods of Lake Michigan. It seems that each day it has an entirely different character. One day it is angry and steely grey with waves crashing against the shore like an ocean. One day it is as still as a Zen meditation. Regardless of the Lake’s mood, I am drawn to the shore to engage with it. Today I closed my eyes to feel the autumn sun radiate off the surface. “Don’t get used to this,” it whispered, gentle waves lapping the shore. “I know better,” I replied and smiled. The Lake is fickle. So am I.

With each new mood comes a dramatically different color palette that ranges through greens to turquoise to the deep purples. Sometimes the color is soothing, sometimes it is electrifying, and sometimes it is an assault. I’ve come to believe that the Lake’s color functions like a mask: it sometimes reveals the Lake’s mood and sometimes obscures it. Sometimes the Lake invites people to play and sometimes like the witch in a children’s book coerces people into a trap. The Lake teaches both faith and wariness.

Standing by the Lake I am reminded of something that I read many years ago. We are mostly monotheistic so we carry the expectation that we, like our god, have a single identity and are plagued by many moods. That is not true the world over. Cultures (like the ancient Greeks) that worship many gods have no such expectation. They allow that they have as many identities as the gods they worship. Their gods are forces of nature and they recognize that those forces are alive and expressing through them. The wind, the thunder, the quaking earth, the changing seasons, the rain, the fertile fields,…, are forces personified. Their moods, their emotions, are akin to being possessed by a god-spirit. Love is a possession. Inspiration is a visit with a Muse. They need to pay attention to their relationship with these forces (they have a relationship with these forces), to stay in the good graces of the fickle gods.

I’ve decided that the Lake is one of the old gods and I need to pay attention to my relationship with it. I like the notion that it has the power to inspire me, possess me, frustrate me, and fill me with laughter. I know its sister, the north wind, has the power to refresh me or chill me to the bone and, of course, the driver of the sun chariot graces me with warmth and music.

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.