Teach

A few years ago I was facilitating a workshop with my beloved teachers in Hastings, NE. We were exploring rituals of entering the classroom. A ritual is a repetition of action. Each morning teachers enter the classroom and perform a ritual of preparation for the day. The lights go on. Papers are arranged. Desks are organized. Many seemingly simple tasks of are executed just as they were executed the day before and the day before that. I asked the teachers in the workshop to create a simulation of their classroom and one at a time to enter the space and perform their ritual of preparation for the day. It was not long before the group recognized that their rituals were rituals of control; they were preparing to control their students. It is one of the major confusions in the American public school system: we’ve confused control with teaching.

Next, I asked them to perform their students’ ritual of entry into the classroom. After much laughter and caricature, one at a time, they demonstrated how their students entered the learning space. They knew intimately their students’ ritual: who would enter first and how. In each case there were disrupters and the disappeared. The teachers’ revelation was breathtaking: the students’ ritual was a challenge to control. The entire game, the frame of the experience each and every day, was a game of control and challenge. Keep in mind that this was a group of superior teachers, some of the best I have ever known. Their game of control was systemic. They were, until that day, unconscious of the game. They work within a system designed to reinforce the control/challenge game. They must play the game to get paid.

This morning as I was taking a walk with my greatest teacher – Tripper the Australian Shepherd, Circus Dog, six months on the planet with no need to figure stuff out, just happy to be alive and barking – I remembered that day with the teachers and the amazing discussion that followed. Tripper is teaching me a lesson about the line between control and teaching. I am trying to teach Circus Dog lots of things, like “sit” and “stay,” “heel” and “fetch.” There are days when I attempt to control him and things do not go well, especially for me. I get frustrated and behave miserably. There are days when I know that I am teaching him. We have fun. We have patience with each other. And, he teaches me something that I already know: instead of controlling him, the best learning happens when I help him learn how to control himself.

Like all children, he wants to please. He wants to belong with the pack. He wants to understand how and where he fits. When I make it my mission to control him, he makes it his mission to challenge my need to control. I would do the same thing. I have done the same thing. My very natural response to controllers is to pull and push and disrupt. When I make it my mission to help him learn, he does his best to respond to what I am asking of him. Sometimes that takes time. In fact, it always takes time and patience, and repetition. It is a different kind of ritual.

Another phrase that I used to say but have recently retired due to wrinkled brows, is that the best learning happens when we help students (children, little people who want to understand how and where they fit in this big world) to be self-directed and self-regulated. Personal power is the fruit of self-direction and self-regulation. As Saul taught me, to orient to the self is to see the vast field of possibilities bubbling right in front of you. Trying to control “the other” makes one short sighted.

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

Make Sense

title_pageThe Seer is built upon 9 Recognitions. Much of the book is an email conversation between the protagonist and his mysterious guide, named Virgil. Virgil coaches the protagonist through his discovery and encounters with the 9 Recognitions. Here is a small excerpt from an email exchange between the protagonist and Virgil:

Me: I realized that I think in patterns. I think the same stuff over and over. This is a puzzle: the act of looking for patterns opened my eyes. So, patterns reveal. And yet, later, when I became aware of the patterns of my thinking, I recognized that those patterns were like ruts or grooves. It’s as if I am playing the same song over and over again so no other music can come in. My thinking pattern, my rut, prevents me from seeing. So patterns also obscure. Make sense?

Virgil: Yes. It must seem like a paradox to you. Think of the song or rut as a story that you tell yourself. Your thoughts, literally, are a story that you tell yourself about yourself and the world; the more you tell this story the deeper the rut you create. So, a good question to ask is: what is the story that you want to tell? Are you creating the pattern that you desire to create? We will return to this many times. This is important: the story is not happening to you; you are telling it. The story can only control you if you are not aware that you are telling it.

Me: Can you say more?

 Virgil: We literally ‘story’ ourselves. We are hard-wired for story. What we think is a narrative; this pattern (song) that rolls through your mind everyday is a story that you tell. You tell it. It defines what you see and what you do not see. What you think is literally what you see.

There was a pause. That was a lot for me to take in. When I didn’t respond, he continued:

Virgil: So, what you think is nothing more than a story; it’s an interpretation. You move through your day seeing what you think – instead of what is there. You are not seeing the world you are seeing your interpretation of the world. You are seeing from your rut and your rut is a pattern. So, your patterns of thinking, your rut, can obscure what you see. Make sense?

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

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.

Change The Game

SatanWe named our Christmas tree Satan. Not right away, of course. There was a progression of more appropriate names before we arrived at Satan. He was a scotch pine and we were disconcerted to discover that he that was more porcupine than pine tree. I’m only slightly exaggerating when I say that he was capable of planting hard needles in soft tissue at the most inopportune moments. For instance, with arms full of delicate wine glasses, Satan somehow lodged a sharp surprise in my sock. Howling in pain with glass flying all around, I swear I heard Satan-the-tree snicker. As I recovered and stared in utter disbelief, he twinkled in reply as if to say, “What?” Evil in pine.

Satan was beautiful. His white lights were hypnotic. His seeming tree-esque innocence was his appeal. On more than a few cold snowy nights, a fire snapping and waning in the fireplace, we gazed at him until the wee hours, forgetting his true nature. Inevitably, we were lured into touching his branches. Suddenly, like a swarm of bees, our sweater arms where loaded with spiny green stingers. Satan silently watched our pain-dance-sweater-removal antics. His branches bobbed ever so slightly with delight. Oh, sadistic wood!

Soon we avoided the corner of the room where Satan stood. We abandoned holiday efficiency and comfortable travel patterns opting instead for the paths of least pain. There is a group movement exercise called Angel/Devil in which you assign yourself an angel and a devil (from other members of the group). The goal, as you move about the room, is to keep your angel between you and your devil. The exercise reveals that a devil focus always makes the world smaller. Movement bunches up. Soon, all actions become reactions to the movements of your devil. Creativity stops with a devil focus; all energy is channeled into avoidance techniques.

A focus on obstacles is a devil focus. A focus on “can’t” or “shouldn’t” is often a devil focus. Blame is certainly a devil focus.

People go to great lengths to avoid pain. We created some great stories to keep a comfortable distance between Satan and us. We unwittingly began playing an angel/devil game with our Christmas tree! Once we caught sight of the game we laughed. That’s the moment we started calling the tree Satan; we named it.  A little sacrilegious humor changed the game. Rather than fear the barbs we loved the utterly ridiculous relationship we had with the tree. It was a good reminder as we enter a new year to deal with the barbs instead of trying to negotiate them. Of the very few things we can actually control in this life, the primary one is where we place our focus. We choose what we see. We interpret what we see. So, it is important to focus on something other than the devil or the problems or the obstacles. Another lesson from Satan: call a barb a barb and don’t pretend it didn’t happen. Deal with the stuff, don’t ignore it.

It was with great relish that I roped Satan’s stump and pulled him without ceremony outside into the cold. We drug him down the street (he made an awesome brush pattern in the snow) to the tree collection spot where he will soon be transformed into mulch. Pulp justice.

Go here to get my latest book, The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, 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.