Listen To The Story

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

I found another rich tidbit in the archives and have updated it slightly:

Where is the story that unites us? Story is the gravity that holds communities together, pulling individuals into a common orbit. It is the irresistible cadence of invitation: come. Sit. It is singular and essential; it holds the space of affirmation. It reinforces the knowing of, “This is who we are. This is where we belong.”

Story is the gravity that holds us together, this we’ve forgotten. And like the musicians in an out-of-tune orchestra, when we no longer recognize our common story then the gravity reverses itself, we spin off into the void, alone in a cacophony of inner monologue. Hell is a community of individuals lost in the fog of their own story. Hell is the universe that has forgotten the existence of shared music. Hell is where you compare yourself to others and in a comparison the others will always win. In Hell you think you have to be perfect so you are never good enough. Hell is where you invest in false notions of who you should be, have to be, could have been. In Hell there is no present moment because you are too invested in the fears of the future and regrets from the past. It’s a dense fog, an inner wasteland. In hell you are alone. Staying in Hell takes a real commitment to the story that you tell!

Not only is story capable of holding us in a coordinated orbit and conversely, blinding us to each other, story also holds the power of guiding us through the wasteland and back to the garden. The old stories are like maps capable of telling us. “This is how your trials will look and feel. These are the challenges you will face. This is what you can expect.” Knowing the stories won’t save you from your trials but they will bring greater meaning to them. Stories guide.

Every human that has ever walked the face of the earth has been born, grown to adulthood, wondered what was theirs to do, loved and lost, fulfilled themselves or not, grown old, and died; their advice comes to us in the form of a story. If we listen metaphorically, the wisdom it holds will spill its guts. Stories don’t need to be tortured to reveal their secrets, they are eager to share. However, treat them as fact and they will clench their jaws and clutch their fists and hold their breath until they pass out. Their treasure lives beyond the realm of facts, beyond the superficial. Read a story as literal or as fact and you cage what is wild. Listen deeply, go beyond your chattering intellect and engage it, feel it in your body. Story desires a relationship with you.

Make Your Choices

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

Today I saw a man nearly beaten to death. Four men jumped him. Pedestrians ran to the man’s aid. A bus stopped. Police were called. I could not look. I did not want those images in my mind.

A half a block away a young man helped an old woman in a walker cross the street. She took longer than the time allotted by the light so the man stepped into the street and shielded her. I stared. I wanted that image in my mind.

I ran for a bus and the driver either did not see me or did not care. He pulled away as I reached for the door. For a moment I was angry because I decided that he didn’t care and then I chose the other possibility. I did not want the anger in my body.

I debated about telling someone of the love I felt. It seemed scary to say out loud. For a moment I was silent and then I chose the other possibility. I wanted to feel the love in my body. To say it is to release it. The warmth flows both ways.

These are our choices, are they not?

Open The Door

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

“The artist vocation is to send light into the human heart.” George Sand

The first of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism is that all of life is suffering. In this context the predicament of the artist is no different than that of a plumber or a president though I’ve yet to find a plumber who considers suffering necessary to his or her vocation. With artists (in the USA) suffering is central to the narrative. It is an expectation and seems to be a prerequisite. Why do artists think they need to suffer or believe that suffering unlocks the door to their artistry? It doesn’t.

Here are some conditions central to unlocking the door to artistry: curiosity, experimentation, exploration, discovery, passion, investigation, play, “What if…?”

We do not easily walk into our shadows. One of the roles of artist is to go where others choose not to go. A walk into the shadow may be uncomfortable but it is equally as liberating. An artist is supposed to see what others cannot and sometimes that is painful. An artist often acts as a bridge between worlds of perception, living on the edge of the village, translating the signs. As the god of transitions and boundaries, Hermes was of this ilk. He was also the protector of poets. Sometimes it is the role of the artist to travel into the netherworlds to retrieve a truth or a lost soul. Orpheus descended into the underworld to reclaim Eurydice. He did not trust so he lost what he most desired. His artistry was a gift of the gods. His suffering was from distrust of the gods’ gift.

At times artistry may be solitary or scary but it is always transforming. Always. An artist rarely “fits” the social norms but continually serves the health and growth of the community. Artists are transformational.

The coaching work I do with artists (myself included) often requires a stroll into this misguided ideal or expectation of suffering. What are the underlying assumptions that make suffering or madness an erroneous precondition for artistry? This is what I know: suffering is what happens when we ignore our innate artistry or smother our essential creative spark. Suffering is not a prerequisite to anything. Suffering is a sign that the artistic door is closed.

Choose Your Clothes

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

Today was gorgeous in Seattle so I decided to walk across town to my studio. En route I saw six men dressed in full foliage-style camouflage. None were in the military. The first I barely noticed. Later when the second crossed my path I thought, “Oh. Bookends!” When, a few moments later I saw a third, my curiosity was piqued. One would not have caught my attention but six was a bowling team and a half so I began to ponder. What would inspire a man to dress in full camouflage when headed downtown? And, why so many camouflage clad men in such a short amount of time?

The point of camouflage is to blend in to the environment. Had they been wearing the taupe brick pattern or perhaps cement and asphalt design, their clothes might have served to conceal. I would have passed them without notice. Perhaps my subconscious would have alerted me to the oddity in the bricks but I would have glazed over it without raising their attire to my consciousness. Their camouflage achieved the exact opposite of its design! They stood out! Six foliage-pattern-peacocks sauntering down the urban streets of Seattle. Perhaps that was the point! To be seen in an environment that is otherwise anonymous. Amidst so many grey suits they were a festival of pattern and color.

Many years ago I used to buy green military cargo pants because the pockets were great for a painter. All kinds of rags and brushes fit in cargo pockets. They were comfortable and infinitely destroy-able so they were perfect for artist wear. Perhaps my bowling team and a half were dedicated to function and comfort. Had they been wearing only the pants or only the shirt I would have thought them artistic but no self-respecting artist wears statements of regiment and uniformity. In full regalia they were making a statement other than artistry.

Clothes are a statement. Mine are just as much a statement as are the choices made by my bowling team plus two. Perhaps that is what caught my attention. It is an odd statement of choice when a person dons camouflage while they have full freedom of choice. Sameness in the military serves an important function. To choose uniformity as a route to self-expression is a paradox almost too beautiful to ignore. Or, perhaps my guys are not comfortable with choices. Perhaps self-expression is too much to consider so military gear is a nice solution to overwhelming angst. I remember watching a film about a man who came to the USA from a third world country. The first time he entered an American grocery store he was completely overwhelmed by too many choices. It’s possible that my bowling team plus two suffer from option anxiety.

Of course, I am speculating. Perhaps their mothers still lay out their clothes; matching tops to bottoms is easier when dealing only with camouflage. One need not think too much when there is only one option.

Create A New Circle Of Thought

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

I am cleaning out old files and rediscovering some small gems. This one is useful for educators and the national non-conversation we continue to have about education. This gem is from the Circle Project years when Patti and I used Vicious and Virtuous circles with our clients as a way of clarifying their challenges. We also used them to clarify our challenges or to prepare for a training/teaching session. This Vicious circle came from our preparation to lead a train-the-trainer session. Imagine the phrases move clockwise around a circle so that the final phrase returns to the first. The challenge, of course, it to discover and change the premise of the vicious circle, transforming it into a virtuous circle:

I Am The Expert, requiring that I have all the answers

And when I must have all the answers, I can never say, “I don’t know.”

And when I can’t say, “I don’t know,” learners and questions become dangerous,

And when questions become dangerous, controlling the learner is my primary intention.
And when I need to control the learner, I train against surprise,

And when I train against surprise, my training becomes transactional,

And when my training becomes Transactional, I relegate the learner to a “passive receiver,”

And when the learner is relegated to being a passive receiver,

I am The Expert, requiring that I have all the answers…

Everything we need to know to revolutionize education: interrupt the loop OR do the opposite. Begin with this phrase and see what new loop you might create:

I refuse to be The Expert, requiring me to help my students find their own answers,

And because they must find their own answers, we begin by saying, “I don’t know.”

And when we can say, “I don’t know,” learners become questioners so there’s a reason to learn,

[the rest is for you to create – or go back and alter my start. Have fun revolutionizing a system badly in need of your new circle of thought!].

Get Almost Naked

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

Saul-The-Chi-Lantern shared two bits of wisdom this morning. The first was his secret for remaining free of the chaos of domestic life. When he returns home and finds the vacuum is running, all three televisions are blaring and there is an implied list of things for him to do, in his words, “I get almost naked. I take off most of my clothes because it will appear as if I am about to take a bath.” He suggested running a little bit of bath water just to support the illusion. He said, “In this way, you remain aloof of the confusion. People will leave you alone.”

Once, while exiting the freeway on my way to the Polyclinic, I saw a fully naked man walking leisurely down the sidewalk and, as proof of Saul’s theory, no one bothered this man. Most, if not all pedestrians and motorists alike steered clear of the fully-naked-man. Though a true scientist would argue that my assertion is false. Had the sidewalk man been nearly naked instead of fully naked he would prove a better sample case.

The second bit concerned intentional party behavior wisdom. Saul told us that as a young man he had the reputation for never sitting down at parties. People assumed that his capacity to stand for hours at a time came from stamina developed from his tai chi practice. Saul said, “This was not the case. I was dedicated to continued sampling of the appetizers on the table but had to mask my repeated visits to the table. Too many visits to the food table is not polite. My stamina had nothing to do with tai chi and everything to do with my dedication to food.”

There you have it. Pearls of wisdom for living a good life: 1) Get almost naked to remain free of the chaos. 2) Make several trips to the appetizers but do so in a subtle if not polite manner.

In case it slipped by unnoticed, be aware that both pearls are essentially studies in the fine art of creating illusion. 1) Pretend you are taking a bath. 2) Weave an illusion of stamina so you might graze the snacks without calling attention to your real intention.

Saying, “There you go! 70 years of wisdom reduced to two essential pearls,” Saul spun around and led us into a silent practice of the form.

Follow Your Feet

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

The sun was out today. I took a break midafternoon, bought a coffee, found a sunny spot, and sat in it. I closed my eyes and sat facing the warmth, soaking it in. I was not alone. Periodically I opened my eyes and spied other sun sitters in their own special light pools. When I first moved to Seattle I made fun of sun sitters. I did not understand the people pouring out of the towers to find a warm wall or sunspot to occupy. Now I am one of them. I couldn’t get enough. There is not enough sun to slake my sun-thirst.

Earlier this morning as I walked down the hill, the sun was not yet up though the clouds were soft orange against a purple sky; the birds sang a spring song and I stopped to listen. They knew the sun was coming out to play. They knew the sun had one foot in spring and they needed to sing the other foot out of the winter circle. They sang with all of their might and invoked a gorgeous day. The sun finally committed: both feet are now firmly planted in the renewal.

After my date in the sunspot I walked, intending to go back to the studio but found my feet had no intention of leaving the sun. I told my feet that I had things to do, that I must be productive but they would have none of it. They pulled me to the sunny side of the street and followed every street I’d not yet trod. That seemed to be the criteria: 1) sun, and 2) unknown. As I gave in to the will of my rogue feet I decided that their criteria made much more sense than mine. Or, perhaps their criterion was a better match for my mine. I was certainly productive: I learned many new streets and my vitamin D quota escalated. I achieved a lot, too! My stress levels dropped significantly. I did not know they were up until they dropped. I cleared my mind as only a walk into the unknown can do. I talked to a woman preparing a neighborhood garden. I found a second sunspot and occupied it for an ample amount of time. Perhaps the birds invoked a bit of both-feet-in spring from me as well. As it turns out, my feet are very smart and the birds are very persuasive!

What Do You Feed Your Mind?

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

I found a document in my files labeled, “Prompts.” I opened it to find out what it was. This is what I found:

The mind becomes powerful with language. What we put into it becomes important
Because
In order to create, we start thinking. What do you feed your mind?

Watch your thought. The energy of your thought goes somewhere
So,
Being ‘out of your mind’ takes on a whole new meaning.

A brain opens; thoughts fly free.
Think on that the next time you ask yourself:
“Where did that thought come from?”

I create this perspective so it must also create me.
Don’t you want to know
Where is the outer limit of this thing called “awareness?”

The perspective we choose is the story we tell.
Likewise,
Every thought impacts everyone all the time. It’s a cycle. It’s a ripple. We are constantly in a cycle of re-creation (do you know it?)

“Paradox is hard for the intellect to deal with,”
I said to no one in particular,
“However, Intuition expects paradox.”

The thought that tells me I am stupid is secondary pain,
It follows
After I trip or say the wrong thing (initial pain).

Soul thinks wide and deep thoughts
And does not understand Limitations.
So think soul thoughts and act accordingly.

Be A Hypocrite

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

Apparently, I am a hypocrite. I do not always practice what I preach. Most days I believe that I am my brother’s keeper. Yet some days I walk passed someone in need; I turn my head and pretend not to see them, saying to myself, “This is not mine to do.”

I believe in anchoring my life in love and yet sometimes I enshroud myself in a wet blanket of fear. I say things I do not mean. I judge and run back to my safe place.

I believe in the power of possibility and yet there are days that I fill my cup to overflowing with “I can’t.” I invest with gusto in my disbelief and hide my gifts beneath a mound of doubt.

I preach the virtues of going slow. I believe in being present and yet at times I find myself racing to get somewhere. I tailgate other drivers wanting to “get there.”

I believe in the power of language and yet I have said hurtful things and am often unaware of what I am actually saying.

I believe intuition trumps intellect every time and yet I regularly justify and reason myself out of following my gut instinct. I spend an inordinate amount of time in my head (I call it my office) and talk on and on about being more in my body or in nature. Empty words.

I believe in loyalty and trust and yet at crucial moments in my life have chosen self-preservation; I did not throw myself under the bus to save the other.

I believe in self-love yet have given the farm away more times than I can count. I hurt my self regularly with my unwarranted self-judgments and unrealistic expectations. I hold myself to standards that I would never expect from others.

There are gaps everywhere. I am flawed, flawed, flawed. Accuse me of almost any hypocrisy and I will look you in the eye and admit my imperfection. I am human and by definition that means I am messy and riddled with contradictions. Hold me to a standard of perfection and I will utterly disappoint you. Ask me why I say one thing and do another and I will get angry and defend my belief even as I know that I have betrayed it with service to yet another belief.

What I do not believe is that the world is black and white. I do not believe in absolutes. For me, truth is found in the paradox. Life is lived in the contradictions. I grant my life the same principles that make color vibrant: there’s nothing like a touch of red to make the greens pop. If you really want to see the orange, surround it with something blue. As Quinn once told me, all religious traditions have one thing in common: they instruct us to find the middle way, seek the path between the pair of opposites. It is impossible to find the middle way by eliminating the contradictions; one must test the boundaries to know where they are. As Dan Pink writes, “Clarity depends on contrast.” Given my massive contradictions, I expect someday to be utterly clear for at least one brief moment. In case you expect my clarity to last be forewarned that I will most certainly follow my moment of clarity with wholehearted dedication to some new spectacular confusion.

Catch A Glimpse

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

Deep in the alcove of the side entry to an old building lurked a man wearing a faux bear hat and a too big worn out raincoat. He was doing a slow dance, in invocation and I stopped to watch him. Our eyes met for a moment, just long enough for me to know that he did not mind my witness. His slow pushing and pulling of the air seemed out of joint with the pace of commuters racing to get somewhere. This man seemed to come from another era. He was not of the city; his dance was a nature dance. After a while I left him dancing in his alcove.

I passed a family hunkered down in a doorway. They were tourists. They were dressed for Florida and seemed surprised that it was cold in Seattle. They were confused by the rain; their map of the city was dissolving into mush. “What do you want to do now?” the father asked his kids, trying to buoy their wet spirits. There was no reply. They wanted to be warm. “How about finding that glass blowing place?” he asked.

As I crossed Pioneer Square I saw, laying near the memorial to firefighters, an empty jacket, pants, socks and shoes. It was as if someone had lain on the ground and disappeared, leaving their clothes behind. I wondered if this was the work of faux bear hat man. No one else seemed to notice so I walked on.

A man stepped in front of me and asked if I was up to doing a good deed today. Then, he asked me for a quarter. I imagined he must be a genius marketing executive gone destitute. As it turned out I was up for a good deed this day and thought his ask was too low so I gave him all of the change in my pocket. I had a lot of change in my pocket. He looked at me like I was a slot machine when I handed him a fist full of coins. He smiled when I said, “Great pitch!”

Worlds collide. I once saw Stephen Hawking talk about multiple universes, like bubbles that sometimes brush against each other. In those moments of bubbles touching, we catch a glimpse into the reality of the other universe. Today it seems that we are, each of us, a bubble universe. How else can I explain these strange and wondrous glimpses?