Truly Powerful People (191)

191.
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 Lora and I hauled 7 sacks and 1 box of books to a used bookstore. Our shelves have never been this empty. This month we’ve cleaned out our closets, tossed mountains of paper and files from the office and I purged my studio. This need for space is primal. It’s as if we were possessed by a force – it makes no sense yet demands immediate response. We’re acting out of instinct; there is change in the wind and we can smell it. Space must be cleared.

The books we removed were not novels or pleasure reading, they were the “anchor” books, the source books necessary for work, the collected resource for a career. Taking them out of our apartment was the same as saying “I’m done with this part of my life now. I will never be that person again.” Of course, taking off one identity necessitates the creation of another. Now that space has been cleared, the question hanging in the air is, “Who will I/we become?” Are we on the edge or have we already stepped off?

Many years ago, before I left Los Angeles, I gave my theatre library to my friend Albert. Hundreds of plays, books on acting and directing, a collection that I’d spent years gathering; I had to rid myself of them. They morphed from treasure to burden in a matter of days. Once divested of my books I left LA feeling released, somehow. I drove into a future with no idea of where I would land or who I would become. I was exhilarated, standing squarely in the burning point of my life with no illusion of safety or security.

Almost twenty years later I enact the ritual again only this time I am not driving into a future looking for answers or the fulfillment of something that I don’t already possess. I am not running toward or away from anything. This is less about a new layer, a new suit of clothes, and more about a movement to the center. This is simplicity, a reveal-ation. This time I am not going some other place but sitting quietly as the burning point of my life.

Truly Powerful People (190)

190.
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 believe we are living in a time when THE OLD STORY is colliding mightily with THE NEW REALITY. It is an opportunity for change but like most times of great potential change, we hold on with white knuckles to THE OLD STORY. Change is frightening precisely because it is unknown. It is easier to hold onto the monkey bar than it is to fly toward the next place. Our circumstance is dire because the pace of change is blistering so the immensity of the denial necessary to maintain THE OLD STORY is…absurd.

As Marshal McLuhan wrote, we humans are great at stepping into the future with our eyes in the rear view mirror. It’s as if we live life in a rowboat, pulling for a future with our backs to where we are going. The occasional glances over the shoulder help us spot a destination but our eyes are fixed on the shore from which we came. Safety lives on the shore behind us (we think).

As Roger once said, “I believe among a human beings greatest capacities is the capacity for denial.” Denial often looks like this: “Things are okay just as they are,” “I wish we could return to the good old days,” “Let’s get back to basics, return to our family values, do what we know works.” Or, just listen to our education, political, and economic conversations. Denial also likes to pretend that these things are happening to us; waking up is simply the acknowledgment that we are the creators of it.

 

Truly Powerful People (189)

189.
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 have initiated a new practice in my life. This summer was very difficult, perhaps the most difficult stretch of my life, and I fell into some old patterns and deep dark valleys.

Here’s the practice: When I wake up, before my feet hit the floor, I ask myself this question: what do I want to bring to this day?

It seems like a simple question until you consider the possible responses. Do I want to bring anger to this day? Anxiety? Do I want to infuse this day with despair? Shall I bring a big dose of depression? How about investing in blame? That is always a salty sweet snack! Those possibilities do not exist outside of me. They are mine to choose or not.

I’ve been amused by the answer that has been the most dynamic, most interesting and vital to climbing out of the trenches: I want to bring my curiosity, every last bit of it. I want to bring all of my inquisitiveness, 100% of my capacity to not know. That’s it. That is my choice for what I want to bring to my day. You’d be amazed at the difference in the world I see since deciding to bring curiosity instead of my resistance.

I am reminded of two things each morning as I ask myself this question: 1) choices of significance always come down to matters of my being and have very little to do with aspects of my doing, and 2) I may or may not have choice in my circumstance (things happen) but I have infinite choice about who I am within my circumstance.

Truly Powerful People (188)

188.
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 first time I stepped over a person sleeping on the street I was horrified. I grew up in the burbs; if someone was collapsed on the street it meant they needed help. It was early in the morning, my first day in San Francisco. I was 22 years old. I rushed to the man laying on the cement and my friend Roger grabbed my arm, “Keep walking,’ he said, “There’s nothing you can do.” I stepped over the man and kept walking. It was unnatural. I didn’t believe that there was nothing to be done. And, I kept walking. Roger was quick to point out the people asleep in doorways, on benches, beneath cardboard,…; once my eyes were opened I saw people scattered all over the city, hundreds of people asleep on the street. It was as if an earthquake hit the city and its residents were afraid to go back into their homes. “What happened?” I asked. “Reagan cut funding for the shelters,” Roger said. “The economy sucks.” Even then those answers seemed too simplistic, completely void of responsibility. This is how we learn the rules of community.

That was 1983. Today I walked by the courthouse in downtown Seattle. The park next to the courthouse was like a refugee camp. Every park bench served to support makeshift cardboard shelters. People slept beneath every tree and formed a line adjacent to the fences. Sleeping in the day is necessary if you have no home to return to at night. For a moment I thought it was a performance art piece, the actors having placed themselves on the ground in an orderly composition. They were so still. I felt no horror and had no impulse to help. Instead, I was more concerned with looking at them for too long; I am supposed to not notice. I am a man of my times and have internalized the rules of community.

Earlier in the day I’d read a passage about Marshal McLuhan and how he often wrote of the human tendency to dismiss an idea or experience by naming it. Neil Postman called it “label-libel.” Attach the right label to it and you needn’t think about it any more.

“Homeless,” I said, feeling nothing. “The economy sucks,” I intoned. “Nothing to be done,” I whispered, wishing for the days when I had access to my horror.

Truly Powerful People (187)

187.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

He asked me, with eyes downcast, “Yes, but when will I believe that I am whole?” We were sitting on the stage of an outdoor theatre. It was a hot summer night after a not-particularly-good-rehearsal. This young man, an actor, came dangerously close to being fully present, alive and available in his scene; he came very close to actually being seen without his armor. It scared him and he fled. I was secretly proud because he was brave and daring to come so close to his power. Now he was fully invested in pummeling himself. Had I a whip, a hair shirt, and a wee bit of salt to offer him he would have gladly added the torture to his self-abuse.

“You will believe that you are whole when you stop investing in the idea that you are broken.” Not a very useful response, but there it is.

A wise old mentor once told me that you can only give an actor one significant note a day. Give them too many things to incorporate and nothing will move forward. Give them the note to chew on and leave them alone to chew. So these are the things I did not say: When you deem that it is alright to be afraid, when you consider it useful to feel what you feel without a need to alter it to service the opinions of others, when you stop beating yourself for trying, when you stop abusing yourself for making strong offers and reward yourself instead, then you might feel whole. Wholeness is not something you attain. It is something you are. Feel it. Broken is a learned behavior, it is the hallmark of a people that reject nature, particularly their own nature; it is a story guaranteed to keep you hiding (and, that is the point of the, “I am broken and need fixing” story – it is a central story, necessary in the maintenance of a culture of control). And, above all, I did not tell him that it is a useful thing to struggle with; finding yourself is the whole point of being alive – or perhaps better said: finding yourself whole is the point of being alive. Wrestling with it makes for a good story and great life.

Belief is never the issue. Chew, baby, chew.

Truly Powerful People (186)

186.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

This is an old theme revisited. The word of the day is “belief.” For the past few days I have been with Lora at her class reunion in Tucson and I’ve listened to many conversations about belief: belief in self, belief in fate, belief in fortune, belief in friendship, belief in future, belief in love. We give this word, “belief” a lot of power!

Like all words, “belief” is an abstraction. Just as the word “tree” is not a tree (the word is an abstraction of something outside of you), the word “belief” is also an abstraction; it points to something that you decide/create with in you.

We play as if we need belief before we act. The notion that belief precedes committed action is a misunderstanding, an inversion. This misunderstanding is used as a reason to keep both feet on the brakes, “I can’t act before I believe….” Just watch a toddler explore the world! Curiosity is the name of the game, no belief required.

Belief in your self has nothing to do with fulfilling your dreams or bringing 100% of your self to your life. Curiosity is all that is required and the good news is that curiosity is natural to all human beings. Explore to explore. Act to see what happens. Color outside of the lines. The only thing necessary is to take your feet off the brakes.

Truly Powerful People (185)

185.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Standing on the balcony, Diane described her journey to becoming a musician. She told me there were three phases – and she physicalized each as she told me. The first was, “I’m not a musician!” She hunched over and protected her heart. The second was to entertain the idea, “Well, maybe I am a musician.” Still protecting her heart she raised her head and looked around. The third was beautiful. She said, “One day I said, ‘I AM A MUSICIAN!’” She flung her arms wide, open heart, bold stance, and far-seeing eyes. She said, “I found my voice when I decided that I was a musician.”

I asked, “What happened to move you from phase two to full ownership?” Her reply was beautiful. She said, “I decided what I thought of myself was more important than what others thought. I decided I was a musician and what other people thought was none of my business.”

When you meet Diane, you will meet someone in full ownership of her path. No toes in the water to test the temperature, she is diving in head first.

Truly Powerful People (184)

184.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

My friend Arnie and I had a great debate today. He is conservative and I am liberal. I appreciate my debates with Arnie because neither of us feels the need to negate the other. I try to see things his way and he mine. We explore ideas, check realities, and ask questions. We discuss and debate – we rarely justify and defend.

It is amazing to me how much conflicting data we bring to our debates. Of course, his sources are different from my sources and that is the point: we are talking about the same sequence of events and his sources report the exact opposite of what my sources report – and both sources call themselves “news.”

How can “news” have opinions about who is culpable in the actions of government or why did this or that happened? News, to be effective, does not ask the question, “why.” News, to be useful, has to divorce itself of opinion.

I might point to deregulation while Arnie points to too much regulation – it is what we heard on the news. Our histories do not line up at all. I suspect the truth is, neither of us really knows what we are talking about – our opinions are reinforced by news sources and pundits that are biased at best. We are too quick to pull data and statistics from our holsters but if you made me bet my life on the substance of my data I’d pause – I know my news source is more vested in entertaining me than informing me – but I use their data anyway! I want to be right! I am left with a feeling that neither of us (none of us) really knows the truth of anything. We defend our point of view because… it is ours and we heard it on the “news.”

Todd, my Canadian friend, told me that Americans are too quick to claim territory; we are too quick to defend because we skip over the dialogue phase. Today, what Arnie and I did, according to Todd’s observation, was definitely un-American . We listened to each other.

There is one thing to which we both agree – and are absolute in our facts: this country is off the rails.

Truly Powerful People (183)

183.
Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Random thoughts on a morning walk: Without my eyes translating it into a story, the earth (the universe) is action, pure fluid motion without distinction. It is energy in motion.

The birds chase. The waves roll. The fog lifts. The sun breaks through. The jogger waves at me. The cop sits in his car, the engine idling, he reads the morning news. A break? Hooky? The osprey hunts. The gulls complain.

This is what the old masters and gurus mean when they say, “we create the world.” Without my eyes translating, there is no bird chasing, wave rolling, or fog lifting. There is a single motion. There is no bird separate from wave as distinct from fog. I give it coherence. I give it separation and story.

How does this help me? I am certain that I will continue to story everything I see. It happens in a nanosecond. I believe it is what makes us human: a story telling animal. It helps when I see the extent to which I tell my own story – and have infinite choice in the story I tell.

The man can walk in gratitude. He can walk with anxiety. He can lose himself in thought and miss the day entirely. He can be mindful. Mindless. He can be late or just be taking his time. He can try to please or simply do his best. He can try to change the world or recognize that world is motion, pure fluid energy.

Maybe, just maybe, the world is fine without my story. Maybe what needs changing is how I see.

Truly Powerful People (182)

182.
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 image is vivid. I am perhaps 12 years old. I am running through a mountain meadow with my cousin. We are like puppies in a game of chase, laughing, tagging, and changing in an instant the pursuer and the pursued. The grass is waste high and wet with morning dew.

Suddenly my cousin screams, “STOP!” and I freeze in my tracks. He is not given to dramatics and I can hear the fear in his voice. He back-pedals and sits in the grass, shaking. I step toward him and then I see the mineshaft; this used to be gold country and there are shafts everywhere. We thought we knew where they all were but this was a surprise. “I almost went in,” he says, “I wasn’t looking and then there it was.” We pick up a stone and drop it in. Several seconds pass before we hear a distant splash; there is a bottom.

The fear is gone with the splash. We are young and fear is easily translated into curiosity. We throw many stones into the shaft. A game evolves – first throwing a stone so that it bounces against the walls of the shaft: who can get the most bounces. Then, dropping a rock so that it falls all the way to the bottom without touching the sides – this task is harder to do and we become experts. We mark the spot of this new discovery with broken limb thrust into the ground. We build a makeshift barrier to protect other frolicking travellers. We pull the grass around our barrier so it can be more easily seen and then throw handfuls of grass into the sky.

We do not carry a story of fear home with us; we carry a story of discovery. We carry a story of play. We are not afraid to run through the grass after our discovery of the shaft. We do not assume there are dangers lurking in every field; in fact, the discovery of the shaft unleashes our inner Indiana Jones. We carry a curiosity, a love of the unknown, a spirit of adventure. We do not assume we know what is coming down the road; the point is to run down the road.

We are powerful because we do not invest in our fear. We are powerful and alive because we still know how to dance with uncertainty.