Tag: courage

The Monster of My Own Making

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“Fear is the cheapest room in the house. I’d like to see you in better living conditions.” – Hafiz

Eight-year-old Miss O told me that she is afraid to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night because she’s scared there could be a thief in my walk-in closet.

I told her about being scared of snakes and lava as a kid. I spent two whole years jumping onto my bed from about six feet out so that the King Cobras wouldn’t get me. I jumped off too.

Miss O thinks her fear is more reasonable than mine was. I asked why a thief would come into the room only to stand in a closet?

Funny how strange other people’s fears are when our own feel so familiar and fitting. May we all learn to shake off the monsters of our own making.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Life Is An Echo

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“Life is an echo. What you send out — comes back.” – unknown

A couple of weeks ago, my son, four-year-old Mr D, got a new boxing toy, a small punching bag anchored on a vertical stick. We were home alone together when we assembled it and then went a couple of rounds with it.

We took a break in the yard to cool off and play with our dog, Cooper. As we were throwing the ball, I was coaching Mr. D on what he’d say when his eight-year-old sister came home and asked to play with his toy.

“What are you going to say when Miss O asks to box with your toy?” I started.

“Well, ummm, uhhh.” Mr. D stalled

“Say, ‘yes.’” I whispered.

And we went a couple of rounds practicing that which was every bit as hard as actually boxing.

Then Mr. D asked where his shovel was. As I looked in one hidey-hole and then another, he asked, “Want to go find some worms with me?”

“Uhhh,” I stalled.

“Say, ‘yes.’” he whispered.

And I did.

If we ever need a reminder that what we put out in the world comes back to us, just spend time with children.

(featured photo is Mr. D with his boxing toy)

Vulnerability

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“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.” – Criss Jami

This post was previously published on 2/2/2022. Heads up – you may have already read this.

The other day my friend, Doug called when I was working on a blog post. When I responded to his question to tell him what I was doing, he said, “Oh, that’s awesome. Send me the link to that blog.”

I did and then….<nothing.>

Did he not like my latest post? Did he not like any post? Maybe he didn’t read it? But he asked for it? <Gulp>

Vulnerability is hard.

When I applied to be a writer for the Pointless Overthinking blog (now Wise & Shine), I didn’t tell anyone in my in-person life. I was excited that I might have the opportunity to be a writer for a shared blog but telling someone seemed too scary — I didn’t have the guts to admit it out loud.

Six weeks went by. Because it was well within the window of expected response, I didn’t think about it much one way or the other.

Then from deep inside, my courage to follow-up won over the vulnerability of confessing that it mattered. I sent a follow-up email pointing out how well I can pointlessly overthink. And I got a response within the day.

This internal struggle reminds me how much I’ve learned about vulnerability in recent years, primarily from Dr. Brené Brown’s research. She defines vulnerability as “the emotion that we experience during times of uncertainty, risk and emotional exposure.” It is where we go when things matter and yet they are out of our control. Which I believe is the heart of life.

But she has researched extensively the connection between vulnerability and courage.  “In my most recent research on courage and leadership, the ability to embrace vulnerability emerged as the prerequisite for all of the daring leadership behavior.” Or said more succinctly in one of her most oft repeated quotes, “I believe that we have to walk through vulnerability to get to courage.”

Whether it is leadership, creativity or intimacy, we have to risk emotional exposure in order to show up. If something matters, it will hurt if not met with success, acclaim or acceptance. But I’ve learned that showing up always results in SOMETHING that keeps moving me forward on my journey. I’ll never be able to say that I don’t consider what the potential audience might think as I write this – but I get closer to knowing what it is that I think of my effort.

And what about what my friend Doug thinks? Something I read in a book published by blogger, Julia Preston’s “Voices: Who’s In Charge of the Committee In My Head?” about her life and blogging experience gave me insight into the reactions, or lack thereof, of my non-blogging friend.

“One of the most valuable lessons that I ever learned about vulnerability is that the more willing I am to tell the truth about myself to a trusted listener – someone who will not judge me for whatever heinous crime that I believe I may have committed, the more of me there is to love. The more others trust me enough to share from within the depths of their being, the more that I realize that we’re all struggling with the same human foibles.”

Voices: Who’s in Charge of the Committee In My Head? by Julia Preston

My mountain climbing friend and former IT work colleague, Doug, isn’t a blogger or writing in any format that I know of to share his authentic life. If I took up knitting, I certainly wouldn’t expect any insightful commentary from him on that pursuit. So why do I expect it about writing?

Because to speak to anyone else, writing has to be vulnerable and authentic. Sometimes opening that vein to pour onto the page takes a lot of guts but it’s the only way to reach to others who are willing to walk through vulnerability to get to courage.

I’ve written a related post on the Wise & Shine blog inspired by Miss O’s 3rd grade teacher about the reader’s experience: Writing Windows and Mirrors

(featured photo from Pexels and featured quote from Mitch Teemley: Be Humble. Or Be Humbled )

Leaning In To Answers

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“I’ll choose honesty over perfection every single time.” – unknown

“Have you been faithful to me?” was the question I asked that essentially ended my marriage. It took three years for us to be completely done but that question was a dividing point. Not a particular brave one because I already knew the answer (my business partner had told me), but it was a conversation starter for sure.

But what it divides is more than just my marital status. In the aftermath of my divorce, what I’ve learned is to be able to ask questions, even ones that might change the status quo of a relationship.

  • Do you still want to do this?
  • Is this a meaningful job for you?
  • Does this make sense?
  • This way we have of talking doesn’t meet my needs. Can we do better?

As I was healing from my divorce, I was introduced to the Buddhist nun, Pema Chӧdrӧn’s writings about leaning in. Those words, leaning in, became one of the defining points between before the question and after the question. I learned that I can ask the tough questions and survive. Moreover, I learned the wisdom that the answer exists, whether I want to know or not. So I might as well lean in.

This whole practice has removed a patina of fear from my life. It doesn’t make asking big questions any easier since I’m a conflict-averse, people-pleaser. But does make me less fearful of doing so. There were many questions that I could have asked in my marriage that might have might have started the conversation sooner – Why are your needs more important than mine?  Why do you say, “What’s the big deal?” when I tell you something that is bothering me? I feel suffocated by your need for constant affirmation, can we change this?

I don’t think the outcome would have changed but I do think the dialogue would have been more brave and real. I didn’t ask those questions at the time because I was quite adept at looking away. There have been many good things that have come from my divorce – my meditation practice, inner peace, the freedom to find my own path. But one of the most fruitful is the willingness to lean in to ask and answer meaningful questions.

Somehow asking that first one taught me I could handle any other answers that came my way.

Please see my Heart of the Matter post for a response to a recent question I asked my mom. The Courage to Ask Questions

(featured photo from Pexels)

Everything I Needed To Know About Socialization I Learned In Puppy Kindergarten

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“Ancora Imparo. I’m still learning.” – Michaelangelo

Okay, not everything but a few key things. Cooper has started puppy kindergarten and has been kind enough to take us along with him. Here are some of the things I learned.

It takes training to become best friends.

We listen better when treats are involved.

Gifted dog people are not necessarily people people or business people
If you’re good enough at what you do, the people who love their dogs will pay you anyway.

Enthusiasm can’t be fenced in.

We come in all shapes and sizes, colors and combinations.

There are some breeds that will be judged harshly based on their appearance. The people that love them feel that they have to train them to be perfect to overcome bias.

We can learn things through positive reinforcement, but it takes a plan and a lot of practice.

Learning is exhausting. Set aside time to nap afterwards.

Our attention goes where the treats are; this can be used to great effect.

It’s great to practice for emergency situations. But preparing for it all the time is counter-productive.

Be consistent and those around you will benefit from knowing your cues.

Use your words. Even non-verbal beings can’t tell what you want without words.

Tell people to take their sh!t home with them.

Suggesting what we SHOULD do is more effective than just telling others what NOT to do.

Our natural desire to please and be social will drive a lot of behavior, good and bad.

Loyalty is a two-way street. When you find a creature that will turn to you upon hearing their name, treasure it.

This fits well with the post I wrote for Heart of the Matter today. I think we all deserve a Congratulations for Staying In the Game.

Digging Deep vs Leaning In

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“I don’t promise you it will be easy. I do promise you it will be worthwhile.” – Art Williams

My 6-year-old daughter mentioned that she wasn’t excited to go to school yesterday because she had “reading rotation.” I don’t exactly understand why she doesn’t like it but it’s something about being with her group and having to move through the different stations of school work. So we counted the number of days she has of reading rotation left in the school year – nine. She decided nine was more than doable.

But I was left thinking about “counting the days.” It made me think of the difference between digging deep and leaning in. I remember when I started working out to climb my first mountain and I was working out on these set of stairs on Capitol Hill in Seattle where there are 13 flights for a total of 290 steps. As I did these the first time I thought, “I can do anything for 20 minutes.” This became my mantra for digging deep to get through short-term pain.

Then it came time to climb and I thought “I can do anything for two days.” And adopting that attitude got me through a great deal of repetitive tasks and tough conditions.

When I had first had kids and the sleepless nights were getting to me, I remember thinking to myself, “I can do anything for two years.” Well, I’m not sure I could have done sleep deprivation for that long and fortunately didn’t have to find out but saying that mantra helped get me through.

I can do anything for x amount of time is my mantra for digging deep. It works – it helps me push through a perceived limit by tricking my brain. But there is a point where digging deep becomes a habit to not only push through challenges but also to bear down and push through life. At that point digging deep becomes a liability.

By contrast, the biggest gift I received from the rich healing days when I first started meditating after my divorce was learning how to lean in. It was a lesson I got from Pema Chödrön’s book When Things Fall Apart. It was my awakening that it doesn’t work to avoid things – we need to lean in to them instead and take the power away.

I’ve heard this likened to the martial art of Aikido – that by leaning in to a punch, you take away its power. You get it closer to the source so it doesn’t have a chance to build up steam and turn into something bigger.

You lean in to the things that make you uncomfortable to find out why. You lean in to the arguments you have with your partner to find the root cause of what isn’t being said. You lean in to the fear of what you don’t want to do to find out what associations can be untangled.

For me, it’s a subtle difference between digging deep and leaning in. Digging deep is for when I have to grind things out. Leaning in is for when I can stop things from blossoming into something that has to be endured.

We close enough to the end of the year that I’m sure my daughter can dig deep to get through her remaining reading rotations. But perhaps next time we should practice the art of leaning in so we find out what is making an activity hard and disarm it.

(featured photo is my daughter on the Capitol Hill stairs in 2017)

Woof

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“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream.” C.S. Lewis

A couple of 82-year-olds that I know just got a puppy. Why is that so surprising?

Before I continue, let me dispense with the practicalities here. This couple has been married for 60 years, and are two of the most responsible and grounded people I know. They are the type of people who not only have a backup-plan but a backup-plan for the backup-plan. Also, they are surrounded by family that love them and will take the dog if the need arises.

With that said – why it surprising? As I know from training the puppies I’ve had in my life, a puppy is an investment. I think of my beloved golden retriever who passed away 5 years ago at almost 14-years old and I remember him as the amazing companion he was to me through my divorce and the start of my little family. But training him to be that companion took a lot of initial energy.

I think that we have a story that tells us that when we get to age X, we are supposed to stop investing. It might not be a conscious story but one that affects our choices nonetheless. We may or may not have adjusted that age upward based on the increasing longevity of humans but regardless, there is a time limit on when we are supposed to stop doing new things.

But, if we can be assured of the practicalities, why not get a puppy? At a time in life when one has a lot of free time, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have some young energy to keep you moving? And when your friends may be losing their hearing, isn’t there an upside to a companion that will listen to every word?

More than that, shouldn’t we be willing to keep trying as long as we are on this side of death’s door? It seems that we should at least consider whether the only thing stopping us is a story in our head that tells us there is an age where we shouldn’t love something new, try something different or take on a project just in case we won’t finish.

The couple that got the puppy are the parents of my very dear friend. When I was a senior in high school, my dad took a job in a church across the state and gave me a choice whether to move or not. This family took me in so I could finish out high school where I started. From me, their one-time wayward puppy to this new puppy, all I have to say is, “You’ve got a good home, Lady!”

(featured photo is my beloved dog, Biscuit)

The Learning Curve

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“It always seems impossible until it’s done.” – Nelson Mandela

We worked hard on potty training this weekend. I found it to be a fascinating window into the nature of learning. And that’s not just me putting a positive spin on it.

Day 1: Chaos. The first morning was hit and miss (or more miss than hit). By naptime we were both exhausted. My son because of the huge change that comes learning how to use his body and me because infinite patience takes a lot of energy! So the first lesson came after we’d both napped. Rest helped consolidate the learning so that he was a better student and I was a better coach.

Then after an afternoon and evening of more efforts and celebrations, my son was never happier to have the feel of a nighttime diaper, jammies and to snuggle up and read books. And it underscored for me the need to have comforting rituals to soothe ourselves when in the midst of big change.

Day 2 was characterized by a lot of resistance and efforts to control everything else around. It reminded me of a Brené Brown podcast I heard years ago that whenever she has led or attended a three-day conference, day 2 was always marked by the doldrums. Brené likened it to the middle part of the hero’s journey as described by Joseph Campbell. The hero does everything in their power to pursue all options except for the one that they are called to that leaves them feeling vulnerable.

Day 3: We needed expert help. Which is uncomfortable for me not have it dialed but the amazing teachers at my son’s daycare have said repeatedly that they are more than willing and able to help with this journey. For which I am so thankful. I left him on Monday with a “Good luck” and “God bless you” and I couldn’t have meant both more!

This learning curve at times has felt impossible, exhausting, vulnerable, and not worth it. Somehow it reminds me of learning to snowboard – and also mastering a new technology, figuring out to give my dog allergy shots, starting to blog, and learning how to do mosaic tiling.

Each new venture has roughly followed the same pattern of chaos, resistance and then leaning in and asking for assistance if needed. And it’s not just me. I have a dear friend who didn’t learn how to swim until she was 60 years old. And my 82-year-old mom has been figuring out how to do piano performances online for her retirement community.

Watching my son, I am reminded how hard learning something new is – until it isn’t. And while grown-ups might not be taking on changes as transformative as potty training, we still need to give ourselves the rest and rituals to support our learning, grace to survive the resistance and the courage to lean in to expert help when we need it.

Because as Nelson Mandela says, “It always seems impossible until it’s done.”

(featured photo from Pexels)

The Armor We Put On

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“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” – Howard Thurman

I watched my whole family don armor yesterday and I sit here writing this now stunned and a little sad.

It started with drama about drama camp. As I was preparing my 6-year-old daughter to go to the three day camp this week, there was a registration problem and I told her she might not be able to go. Then her friend was going with couldn’t come the first day. By the time we worked through the registration snafu and she was able to join the other kids, it had been 90 minutes of uncertainty.

I could feel the tension growing in my daughter’s body as she held my hand. Then she whispered to herself, “Be brave,” squared her shoulders and walked in the door. I should have been proud. I was proud. But it blew me away to watch.

It was similar with my two-year-old. He didn’t want to go to daycare after a week when his favorite teacher was on vacation. He was communicating this to me all the way up until I parked and then he completely shut it down as he walked in. It made me think of what one his teachers said to me after he’d recently been stung by a bee on the cheek, “I wondered if this would be the first time I would see him cry and even then, he didn’t.”  

My son is a pretty affable kid but that hit me hard. It made me a little sad not only for him but for all men who are told to be strong, brave and fearless at the expense of shutting down their emotions.

And then me. When this morning’s problem with the drama camp registration came up, I started feeling the fear of having to rearrange all of my work for these three days if my daughter couldn’t go. It created a tension of fear, mixed with disappointment, anger and self-pity since I’d juggled a day off last week when my son was sick.

But when I went to talk to the camp people, I put on my usual bubbly demeanor. Things generally work out pretty well for me because I lead with friendliness. As I’ve said before, my general disposition is a lot like a golden retriever – enthusiastic, friendly and goofy. And for the most part, my inside matches that disposition too but I’ve learned to wear it whether I’m feeling it or not.

I’ve thought a lot about authenticity and vulnerability in the last 10 years since I started to meditate. More than anything, it has changed my inner experience so that I truly know that with the help of God, I can handle whatever is thrown my way. These years of work has built my faith so that the faith tips the scales over the fear. It has made my inner experience match my outward affect.

Watching my kids don their armor at such young ages, it created an ache inside me for all of us. Not just my family but this whole world full of people whose insides don’t match their outsides. We’ve been living with it for so long, we don’t even realize it until we can no longer feel the caress of a hand on our cheek. Then we have to do the work to unpack it or continue to suffer the experience of not feeling fully alive.

I don’t have any solution with which to help my kids except to make it clear we take off the armor at home and practice stoking up the flames of the passion, the rawness and beauty of our whole beings. Then I pray that as Howard Thurman’s quote above says, that helps what the world needs too.

(featured photo from Pexels)

Barring the Doors

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“Peace is not something you wish for; It’s something you make, Something you do , Something you are, And something you give away.” – John Lennon

I dreamed last night that 2 carloads of people were trying to break into my house. To protect myself and my kids, I was in the garage, trying to roll the codes for the garage door opener and even reset the Internet router. I knew these steps would make it harder for me to get out, physically and on the Internet but it felt imperative enough to do it. As I dreamed about having to take these steps, I was so afraid that I woke myself up and could still feel the gritty fear lingering as I lay in bed.

I rarely spend any time trying to analyze my dreams but this one is too obvious to miss. I have a friend who over the last year has been flaky and disappointing. The reasons are rooted in what’s going on in her life but after almost a year of her not showing up for us, I want to lock her out. In the parallel to the dream, I know this type of shutting down makes me less accessible to others across the board but my fear of continuing in this cycle makes it seem urgent.

It all begs that classic question: how do I stay open without perpetuating the cycle? As I sit in this morning quiet place with my candles lit and my mind open, I can see the answer for me is forgiveness and boundaries.

Forgiveness to release the hold disappointment has taken in my heart. To breathe into the space of empathy and understanding for my friend’s life as she struggles to do her work. Letting go of the tally sheet that my mind has been keeping for this past year.

And setting boundaries that I can maintain. As Prentice Hemphill said, “Boundaries are the distance at which I can love both you and me simultaneously.” With boundaries I can create some order in this new phase of friendship without locking everything out.

The other day my 6-year-old daughter had some friends over and when the 3-year-old pulled down the fort my daughter had spent all morning making and then laughed about it, she hissed, “I’m never inviting you guys over again!” It seems so natural to want to lock others out until we are left lonely and bored without anyone to appreciate our forts. Coaching my daughter through it, I can see we can do better with forgiveness and boundaries instead.

(featured photo from Pexels)