Toss It In The Bin

Here’s an old question that I used to ask in workshops and retreats: what if nothing in you is broken? What if nothing in you needs to be fixed? It jumped out of the archive of my mind today as I clean my house literally and figuratively. I am revisiting the eras of my life and the geography of my growth path. I am also having conversations with people who carry the assumption that they are broken or somehow missing a piece of themselves. They are seeking wholeness, which is another way of saying that they are seeking themselves.

Where is wholeness to be found?

I spent entire decades of my life looking for the missing pieces only to discover – as we all do – that nothing was lost. The moment I stopped trying to meet other people’s expectations, trying to fulfill obligations that were not mine to fulfill, taking responsibility for feelings that were not my own, I discovered that I had all of my pieces. They were there all along. I was looking for my wholeness in other people’s eyes so no wonder I couldn’t see myself clearly! I was looking in the wrong direction.

Wholeness is not something we lose. Wholeness is something we lose sight of. Focusing on meeting other’s expectations blinds us to our own expectations. Taking responsibility for how other’s feel distracts us from taking responsibility for our own feelings. I only have one obligation and that is to realize my wholeness in the actions I take everyday. Wholeness is a practice, not an outcome.

So, as I unpack my boxes and sweep the space beneath the stairs, I smile at an old version of me that carried a broken belief so was consequently invested in finding all the missing pieces. Like a decades old birthday card, I remember it but have no attachment to it. I tossed it into the bin with all of the other out-of-date sentiments.

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.

Dance With Alpha And Omega

When Kerri isn’t composing music or performing concerts, she is a music minister at a church. It is a great gift and irony of my new life that I am spending lots of time in a church. I have never identified myself as Christian – I do not believe that nature is corrupt, particularly my own nature – so the fundamental building block of the faith has never made much sense to me. However, Kerri is no ordinary music minister (imagine Sheryl Crow designing the music for church services). There is a raucous ukulele band boasting 50 players, a budding contemporary rock band heavy on the traditional drums; she is experimenting and innovating to help rejuvenate and rebuild a once waning congregation. Art and passion are now bubbling in the wellspring of this community.

During the services on Sunday I sit in the choir loft (side note: the pastor, Tom, is an excellent storyteller and I am at long last hearing the biblical tradition from someone who understands its oral beginnings) and lately I have been taken with the stained glass windows and banners. I am a lover of symbol and behind the altar is a huge window in three sections: the birth, the death, and the resurrection. This morning as I listened to Tom tell the story of the prophet Elijah, I studied the window. I admired the altar cloth that sported and Alpha and Omega symbol. Because I was listening to a story and taken by the Alpha and Omega as one symbol, one action, I had a no-duh moment. Every story is a birth-death-resurrection cycle. Every life is a birth-death-resurrection cycle – and isn’t that the point! When we know enough to read the stories/symbols as metaphors instead of taking them literally, they open like a lotus!

Stories begin when the main character is knocked off balance. Stories begin with disruption, when the old world no longer works, and we must leave behind all that we know and step into the unknown. That is both a death and a birth. It is the Alpha and Omega together as one action. And, isn’t that really the way life works? In living we are dying, in dying we are transforming and generating new life. I have heard it said that presence only becomes possible with the recognition of the impermanence of life. It is movement, as the cliché would have it, an ever-moving river.

In a hero journey, the Alpha Omega cycle ultimately leads to a return. At the beginning of many stories, the hero must go to the place from which no one ever returns and that is metaphoric. It doesn’t mean that no one returns. It means that the person that comes back to the village is not the same person that left. The adventure transforms the hero. This transformation is a resurrection. It is a return. It is a return that is universal to every life story. It is a resurrection open for everyone. Life is an Alpha Omega in every moment: it is a death, birth, death, and rebirth cycle. The return marks the beginning of the next leaving.

Before church this morning I was meditating on life as motion. Life never stops moving. Growth is movement. Learning is movement. It is when we try to stop the movement that we create pain for ourselves. In a physical body, the blockage of movement is the place where toxins accumulate and the same is true in a spiritual body or communal body. It is all movement. It is Alpha Omega in every moment.

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.

Intend The Glitch

Watching a video on “Glitch Art” the other day I heard this phrase: you have to understand a system before you can break it. A glitch in computer code is an anomaly or mistake that creates a hiccup or break in the system. It is a mistake that can make some very interesting imagery. Glitch artists seek the mistakes. They seek the beauty that comes from what others might view as a problem. And my favorite artistic moment as expressed by the glitch artists: at some point they start creating problems in the code. They intend the glitch (which makes it no longer a glitch).

Penicillin is the result of a process glitch. Science is often the art of surfing for glitches, finding the anomaly within the pattern. The word “experiment” implies an orchard of happy mistakes that reveal new insights. The word “unique” means distinctive, exceptional, singular – something out of the ordinary. In other words, a glitch.

Art and Innovation (in the USA) are equated with the new. Artists and innovators try to help us see the world in a new way – or even better, they help us see the world anew. Seeing anew always requires pattern disruption. It requires a challenge to the assumption set, a smack to the status quo. It requires a glitch.

Consider this: learning – true learning (not the answer driven drivel currently running rampant in our education system) and seeing anew are fundamentally the same thing. To learn is to see the new or to see anew. At the heart of art and science – the reason for math and English, economics, politics, ethics, social science,…, is an orientation to the question (as opposed to the numbing notion of a right answer).

Like the glitch artists, no one simply finds the new. It is not something that can be sought or predetermined. It is something we bumble into. It happens when you one day ask, “Hey, I wonder why that happened?” Or, “I wonder if it would work better if…?” It begins with wonder. Wonder leads to experimentation and questions within questions within questions that lead to more experimentation and more questions. This is also a good definition for being vitally alive. Wonder and step toward it. Orient to the question, do an experiment, and tomorrow ask a better question. Do this everyday and someday, just like the glitch artists, you will find yourself doing what all artists know as life-giving: you will intend the glitch, play with the mistake, and learn to see the world anew again and again and again.

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.

Tell The Story

With Tom’s passing comes a renewed interest in producing The Lost Boy, a storytelling/one-man-play about Tom’s ancestors and how he discovered his role in his lineage. We made a hearty run several years ago at producing the piece. Prior to that I spent two years interviewing Tom, walking through family graveyards, unpacking old boxes, looking at photos and artifacts, visiting property that used to belong to his people. We spent many late night hours drinking wine and talking story.

We started work on the play because late one night Tom turned to me and said, “I need you to help me with something.” If you knew Tom you’d know how unusual it was for him to say something like, “I need help.” I sat down and for the next several hours listened as Tom told me an incredible story of lost-ness and found-ness driven by an obligation he felt to his great grandmother. “I have to tell this story,” he said, averting his eyes and adding, “I don’t know how to satisfy my obligation to Isabelle.”

The piece was originally to be performed by Tom. After several attempts I’d written a viable draft that he liked. A terrific band, Mom’s Chili Boys composed music for the piece. In the months before our first read through I felt something was wrong with Tom. He seemed sometimes lost, occasionally disoriented. For our first read/play through of the script we invited a few friends. We had dinner, laughed a lot, and moved into the living room where the Chili Boys had set up their instruments. The reading began well. Tom was a natural storyteller and he was present and vital in the first act. The music was heart-full. And then somewhere in the second act Tom got lost. Literally. For a moment he did not know where on the planet earth he was. I saw the panic in his eyes. His wife Marcia took his hand. After a moment he returned to us though I will never forget the look of fear in his eyes. He had no idea what had just happened to him. We stumbled through the rest of the script but I knew we were too late. Tom would never be able to personally fulfill his obligation to Isabelle. He called me the next night and asked that we stop all work.

As he slipped into dementia, The Chili Boys and I revised the piece so that I would tell the story. We attempted a few half-hearted workshop performances but a roadblock always emerged. The time wasn’t right so we left it alone.

Jim, chief Chili Boy, called the other night and we talked of Tom, his passing, and the play. Jim said, “It’s time.” I pulled out the script and read it aloud. He’s right. It’s time. I have an obligation to Tom and to a woman named Isabelle to tell this story. I have an obligation to myself and to the Chili Boys to tell this story. Ironically, for me anyway, it is a story of a man finally returning to his root and at long last coming home. After my call with Jim I realized that, after the year that I’ve just lived, finding a way to return to my root story, finding my family, I’m only now capable of telling this story.

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.

Be A Ray

[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.”

How Do You Know?

What’s the difference between pursuing a dream and chasing an illusion? It’s a question I’ve been asking myself lately. This past year too many people have told me that I’m chasing illusions and my question is always the same: how do you know the difference between a dream and an illusion?

The problem with dreams is that most people let go of them. When I was in high school an English teacher screamed at me. My dreams frustrated her. She insisted that my dreams where too big and too varied and I’d have to “pick one and learn to compromise.” Even then I knew that she was shouting at herself. Dreams do not die easily.

You can spot a dream strangler a mile away. They will tell you that your dream is not practical. In fact, that is true. No dream is practical and that is precisely the point. Dreams lead into the Netherlands of the unknown. Going into the unknown has never been practical. It is practical to stay at home and watch television. Safety is practical. Living a vibrant life has nothing to do with practicality. There is no accounting that can predict the bottom line of a dream.

When does a dream become an illusion? What is the distinction between pursuing a dream and chasing an illusion? When do you give up hope that your dream is viable? At what point do you set down the dream and say to yourself, “I guess I will do something else.” What else would you do?

I want to do good work in the world. Like every person I’ve ever met, I bring specific gifts to the party. Like every person I’ve ever met, bringing all of my gifts to the party is my dream. Unlike most people I know, my gifts do not easily fit into a single box. Or, perhaps it is more true to say that I am not good at fitting my gifts into a single box. I’ve been a tenured teacher, an artistic director, a corporate consultant, an executive and life coach, and actor and director. I’m an illustrator and author. I’ve worked with many schools and universities – I started a school within a school. Lately I’ve been watching entrepreneurs and accelerator partners trip all over themselves so lost are they in needing to know what they are doing. I wrote a book last winter that I thought would help – and I drew half a years worth of a comic strip. Humor is a great way to say what cannot be said otherwise. I’m a painter. None of those forms are the dream. They were attempts to bring my gift to the party.

This is my gift: I help people see clearly and step into their field of possibility. I help people see what they cannot see. And, like most people, I do for others what I most need to learn.

Here’s my latest theory on the dream/illusion border: Joseph Campbell once said that no one lives the life that he or she intended. We step into life with an idea of what we want to do or become and then something else happens. If you hang onto the dream, what happens is that the dream reveals itself in a surprising form. If you let go of the dream, you have nothing left to chase but illusions of fulfillment.

This dream/illusion question is no small affair…

Step Into The Dot

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.

Meditate

A few weeks ago Jen asked me questions about meditation. She asked about how to meditate. I was surprised by my response because I was certain that I had no idea. I told her that it was all about connecting to the present. It begins and ends with the breath as the conduit to the present.

Jen’s question reminded me of a Transformational Presence Coaching class that Alan and I led a few years ago. Alan began the class with a meditation and afterward someone in the class commented that the meditation “took them away.” They said that they had a difficult time coming back into the moment because they went so far away. Alan’s reflection was beautiful and profound for me as he reminded the class that the point of a meditation is to bring you in to present, not take you away from it. The point is to become more present and not to escape from the present moment.

I’ve since come to believe that everything is a meditation. How I do the dishes is a meditation. How I treat the barista is a meditation. How I think about myself in the world is a meditation. What I believe is possible and not possible is a meditation. How I create my relationships is a meditation.

Recently on a frosty morning I was walking the dog and marveling at the sunrise. For some reason I became conscious of my internal monologue narrating the moment. My next thought was, “Everything is energy and that is particularly true of my thoughts. My thoughts are how energy moves into form.” Thought is how energy moves into form. The thought was overwhelming because I knew it was true. It is an old saw but no less applicable: what I think is what I create.

This summer I made it a point of walking across the city of Seattle every morning and again at night. It took me about an hour each way. I made it a game to notice acts of kindness. You’d be amazed at how many generosities you see if you only pay attention. The amount of kindness far outstrips the impatience and aggression that we assume permeate our daily lives. The kindness is there but we simply choose to not see it. We believe the world is violent and so it is. Seeing is a form of meditation. Where you place your focus is a form of meditation. How you interpret your experiences is a form of meditation. Living in choice is a meditation.

If Jen were to ask her question of me today I would tell that meditation is not a separate thing that you do; it is what you do. The trick is to recognize that you are doing 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.

Breathe At The Edge

Alan and I talked today of edges. We agreed that this was the year of finding and moving beyond our personal edges. Moving beyond personal edges was a theme that emerged in the summit we facilitated last spring in Holland. At the time it was a concept to explore and little did we know that it was foreshadowing what was to come. We laughed at our edge stories.

I have never been so alive. That is the way with edges. That is the gift of being tossed out of your complacency. The disorientation and discomfort that comes with an edge snaps you awake. If you resist it, the awake-ness feels a lot like suffering. If you embrace it, look into the field of possibility – which requires relinquishing control – the awake-ness found at the edge is breathtakingly beautiful.

Lora once had a teacher, a Buddhist that told her he’d rather be alive than comfortable. Judy once told me that she keeps herself close to the edge so that she doesn’t sleep through this gorgeous life (my words). As difficult as this year on the edge has been, I have no desire to return to the sleep walk. There is too much to feel, see, taste, touch, smell, lose, find, discover, trip over, mess up and experience simply. There are too many stories to hear and tell. There are too many colors to gasp at as the leaves explode into color and the cold crisp air blows off the lake and makes my fingers sting.

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.

Know Your Cue

[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.