Tag: responsibility

It’s On Us

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“In true dialogue both sides are willing to change.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

“It’s on me.” I was explaining my parenting approach to my neighbors who telling me a story about their daughter. They were mid-sentence in talking about how their son-in-law travels leaving their daughter with three kids. Then they realized I am always alone with my kids and the story died mid-way through.

I laughed it off and explained that I think it’s easier not having to adjust to absence. I’ve seen this reaction with other parents who start to complain to me about being left with the kids and then end up apologizing to me. No need – I chose to parent alone when I had my kids by IVF and I’ve known from day one that it’s on me.

What I find interesting is the balance that I’ve had to find – or tried to find. I can’t be too touchy feely because I also have to be the disciplinarian. Mind you, I’m still pretty touchy feely but it’s tempered me a bit.

I’ve observed this sometimes with my parenting couple friends. One can be the “fun” parent knowing that the other parent will bring order. Or someone can be the “let’s spend money” parent knowing that the other will temper it with budgets. And sometimes when things get out of hand, the non-involved one absolves themselves saying, “well, they started it, they can see it through.”

Of course it goes beyond parenting. When there’s two, there’s an interplay that brings middle ground. One optimist and one pessimist. One adventurer and one safety-minded. One extravert and one introvert.

Being a single parent has made me more aware of the ways we can be extreme. Sure, we can make a mess, but knowing I’ll be the one to lead the clean-up keeps it in check. Sure, we can use our stockpiles (of food, art supplies, money, whatever), but knowing I’ll have to refill them makes me more conscious of the effort involved.

It makes me wonder if our cities, states, and countries would be better off if we all were Democans, Twigs, or whatever the country equivalent. Or at least behaved as if we were between elections. Would we do less of a pendulum swing if we knew we were the ones responsible for tempering it? I think we’d do more advocating for each cause we’re passionate about and less sitting back and bitching when it’s not “our guy” in office.

I’m sure I’m not the first person to suggest this. Well, here’s to remembering our responsibility in every arena and knowing it’s on us.

(featured photo from Pexels)

You can find me on LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/wynneleon/ and Instagram @wynneleon

I host the How to Share podcast, a podcast about collaboration – in our families, friendships, at work and in the world.

I also co-host the Sharing the Heart of the Matter podcast, an author, creator and storytelling podcast with the amazing Vicki Atkinson.

The Preciousness of Life

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“Our life experiences will have resonances within our innermost being, so that we will feel the rapture of being alive.” – Joseph Campbell

The morning after a really rough night’s sleep, I was sipping tea and realized I didn’t like the mug. It was scratchy to my lip and it made my tea taste different. We were staying at a friend’s house on the Washington Peninsula so all the mugs were new to me.

Because I hadn’t slept well, I was more attuned to it. After a dozen sips, I forced myself to go the kitchen and change mugs. The smoothness of the new one made me realize how many sensations go into feeling soothing.

I hadn’t slept well because I realized in the middle of the night that I hadn’t refilled the water reservoir for Rusty the gecko before we’d left home for three nights. I sat up with a pit of dread knowing that without the water misting twice a day to keep his enclosure humid, he’d likely die. The questions swirling of when I last did it and how long he could survive sent me shooting out of bed.

It was our last night of this mini-getaway. It was 3am I was two hours and a ferry ride away from home. There was nothing I could do to help poor Rusty in that moment.

Instead I sat until I unraveled the knot of feelings in my gut. I felt the weight of all the responsibility I carry for keeping things alive. I sensed the thread of how tenuous life can be. I even worked my way to compassion for myself for making mistakes.

I finally went back to sleep feeling how dang precarious this thing called life is.

So when I awoke, I needed that soothing cup of tea. I wonder how often we forget that our time here is limited. Speaking for myself, when I lean in to the knowledge that life ends, it spurs me on to pay attention and drink out of the right cup. To take care of ourselves so that we can take care of others.

There’s a happy end to this story. I emailed my mom and she checked on Rusty. He was out of water – but she refilled it and misted him. He made it. So one other thing – thank goodness for moms!

The Lottery of Life

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“Some people are born on third base and go through life thinking they hit a triple.” – Barry Switzer

My friend, Eric (from the recent On The Bus podcast), and I recently made a lottery ticket pact. Neither of us usually buys lottery tickets. But we saw a condo for sale at the place we like to go to on Whidbey Island. We can’t afford it, so we decided to buy a PowerBall ticket and if we won, we’d buy it.

I know, a silly idea all around. But the funny thing was that once we’d bought the ticket, I was beset by the idea that I didn’t want to win the lottery because I wanted to earn what I have in life.

Following this stream of consciousness made me realize how many “lotteries” I’ve already won in life.

Being raised by an incredibly smart mom who told me I could be whatever I wanted as long as I was willing to put in the effort.

Having a loving dad that did the work to follow the example of Jesus to love and accept everyone.

Living at a time when women can get credit, buy houses, and use IVF to have children.

Benefitting from mentors who were willing to help me discern what is important, how to navigate adversity, and retain integrity.

Having technical skills at a time when personal computers, the Internet, and mobile technology emerged.

Being blessed with kids that were healthy when they were born and being able to afford good health care for me and my children to help keep us well.

Living in the Pacific Northwest where there are mountains to climb, beaches to comb, and summer weather so nice that most people just want to stay near home. At least for these five months.

Having incredible friends who have walked alongside me for ups, downs, and adventures.

And the list goes on and on. It makes me realize how much my independence and sense of earning is a tenuous construct. It reminds me to balance my dreams with not just what I want and need, but what I can give in thanks.

Or, to put it briefly in a phrase I learned from Dr. Gerald Stein: Tikkun Olam – repair the world.

The Lingering Effect of One Good Person

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“Great things are done when men and mountains meet.” – William Blake

I was eating dinner with Mr. D this past Wednesday night when I couldn’t stop looking at the pictures on my laptop. I have a no device rule at the table but Mr. D kept getting up to do other things during dinner. In his absence, I would flip to the next picture in the slideshow from Lou Whittaker’s obituary in the Seattle Times.

Lou Whittaker, a legendary mountain climber and guide, died on Sunday, March 24 at age 95. In my book, one of the most important accomplishments for a climber is to die of old age.

Lou and his twin brother, Jim, were sometimes referred to as the First Family in American Mountaineering climbing. These two incredibly tall (6’5”) and skinny kids from West Seattle climbed Rainier at age 16, and all the peaks in Washington by age 18.

Lou started Rainier Mountaineering Inc. (RMI) which was the only guiding service on Mt. Rainier for about forty years. When I first attempted Mt. Rainier in 1998, I signed up and climbed with RMI.

Jim started REI (Recreational Equipment, Inc.) and was the first American to climb Everest. Jim is still living.

The Seattle Times obituary captured the brothers relationship well:

“After his brother gained international fame for becoming the first American to climb Everest in 1963, Lou Whittaker — who had declined to join the expedition — said if he had, “Fifty feet from the top, we’d have wrestled there in the snow to see who’d be the first up.”

The Seattle Times

Which isn’t to imply that Lou didn’t do the big peaks too. He climbed Denali, K2, Everest, and more. But more importantly, he trained generations of responsible and thoughtful guides.

My friend, Phil Ershler, the first American who climbed the North side of Everest, trained as a guide with RMI.

As did Ed Viesturs, another Seattle boy, who guided for RMI for many years. Also he climbed fourteen 8,000 meter peaks, the world’s highest mountains, without supplemental oxygen and starred in the IMAX film about Everest released in 1998.

I never met Lou but I’ve climbed with and encountered at least 40-50 guides from his company while spending time on Mt. Rainier. To a person, they were helpful people who wanted to teach others about climbing, respect and appreciation of the mountains, and safety. They made the mountain a safer place by participating in rescues and maintaining marked routes.

More than any other accomplishment, and Lou had many, it is that company ethic that stands out to me. There is a whole generation of guides and mountaineers that will likely die of old age because RMI taught them how to be safe and respectful in the mountains. And tens of thousands of mountaineers who know how to handle garbage, waste, and their impact in the mountains because of the lessons taught by RMI.

Lou’s amazing summit pictures celebrate the high points in life. But I thought it worth also memorializing the long effort and incredible impact one guide and leader can have.

(featured photo from Pexels)

P.S. I love telling stories about the remarkable guides that I’ve met or climbed with and the life lessons they passed along. Here are some of my favorites:

  • The time that Ed Viesturs reached the central summit on Shishapangma at 26,273 (8,008m) feet climbing alone. He looked over the 100 meter traverse to the true summit (26,335 feet) and decided it was too dangerous. He had to return eight years later to claim the summit in a safe way.
  • The story of Beck Weathers being left for dead on Everest and Ed Viesturs and filmmaker, David Breashears, giving up their own summit plans to help Beck descend the mountain.
  • My friend, guide, and amazing climber, Phil Ershler who taught me about objective versus subjective risks.
  • The lasting impact Phil had teaching me how to walk lightly in the mountains and in life.
  • How I learned from Phil about how different things look on the return trip.

Be a Campfire, Not a Conflagration

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“Don’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm” – Rumi

We traveled this weekend to visit a friend in Eastern Washington. On Saturday morning, I crawled out of bed early for my sacred meditation time. After I meditated, I built a fire in the wood stove to take off the chill of the early morning in the woods.

The sequence made me realize the similarities between meditation and fire building.

We accumulate the debris from our lived days – the celebrations, the joys, the annoyances, the worries. It sits like stacked wood until we are ready to coax out the heat and the warmth. Somethings are easier to ignite than others while others need some tending to burn.

It requires a spark to convert it to something other than dead wood that we carry around. The spark can come from something like writing, introspection, or meditation. It can come from people around us or circumstances can set us off. But one way or another something is likely to light us up in good ways or in bad.

Some sort of ventilation is necessary in order for the process to work. We can talk it out, sweat it out, write it out, pray it out, cry it out, or some combo of it all.

Thinking about these parallels as I sat watching the fire in the stove, I found myself mesmerized by the beauty and warmth. But there are few things that scare me as much as when fire escapes its boundaries and roars out of control.

I came home from the weekend with a new motto: Be a campfire, not a conflagration.

Freedom and Responsibility

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“Freedom is not worth having if it does not include the freedom to make mistakes.” – Gandhi

A couple of days ago I converted Mr. D’s crib to a big boy bed by taking off one of the sides. I kept the crib thing going as long as I could because it’s so comforting to have a child stay where you put them but he’s been exercising his ability to push boundaries by climbing out so it was time.

The first night he got out of bed after I said “good-night” a couple of times, fell out of bed, and the next morning he got up 30 minutes early and woke his sister.

Of course I went through this with Miss O a few years ago but I’m reminded again of the lessons that freedom brings.

When we have freedom – to go anywhere we like or to use our time the way we wish or because we are the boss and no one tells us what to do – it is so exciting. Then we have to decide how to use it.

After the newness wears off, we have to learn to have self-control. We get to choose – within the limits of what is responsible and respectful of other people. We have to make decisions that don’t negatively impact our loved ones or people around us.

And when there’s more freedom, then everyone has to enforce their boundaries. In this case, Mr. D’s ability to pop out of bed is infringing on my ability to have morning kid-free sacred time and Miss O’s ability to sleep.

While kids who are almost 3-years-old are not the most reasonable people to talk and negotiate with, I find that having a strong relationship and consistent conversations about what does and does not work for everyone eventually gets through.

In the days that Miss O was learning how to manage her big bed freedom, I would turn on the Tibetan meditation chant music and say that if she got up early, the only option was to meditate with me. It didn’t take long for her to decide to stay in bed. I did the same with Mr D. except I notice that having another child there as a co-conspirator makes the conversation harder.

Yes, this is perhaps a strained analogy to the state of freedom in the US. But on this July 4th, may we remember that freedom comes with the responsibility to exercise self-control, be respectful of the others around us, the requirement to keep talking with each other and enforce our boundaries. Sometimes freedom works for us and sometimes the freedoms of others make us feel a little crazy and grumpy.  We have to keep working for the middle ground where freedom and respect are in balance. We made this bed and now we need to lie in it. 🙂

Happy 4th everyone!

The Right Thing To Do

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“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” – Joseph Campbell

After I dropped my daughter and her friend at school yesterday, I kept driving towards my toddler’s daycare while an inner debate raged over whether I should take him to school. He had a cough that he’s 85% recovered from and never had a fever. I tested him and it wasn’t Covid. He was mostly fine but cranky enough that he’d likely not have an easy day. I could drop him off and still be within the guidelines of the school.

But I kept hearing my dad in my head saying, “If it’s the right thing to do, often it’s the hard thing to do.”

Not taking my son to daycare would definitely be the hard thing to do. It was a Monday morning and I had a day packed with work and things to get done. After spending a weekend primarily focused on my children, I was more than ready to switch gears to productivity.

Pondering why the right thing to do is often the hard thing to do, I think it’s because it requires a sacrifice. We give up our plans in order to help someone else. We give up our pride in order to say we are sorry. Or we are giving up the expected path in order to find a deeper answer.

But on the other hand, we gain a freedom of spaciousness within ourselves. It’s a little like telling the truth all the time and then you don’t have to remember all the lies you told. It’s also like forgiveness – where you free up that energy that you no longer have to hang on to. It’s got a payoff in inner unity and less worry.

When I turned the car for home instead of his daycare, I felt the reward immediately because I was listening to my inner voice. In this case it was the voice of my dad but it was also the voice of the wisdom within.

Listening to that voice is never easy because it always makes me wonder if I’m crazy to give up my plans to follow it. But I’ve found when I do, it always puts me into the Heart of life where I can be surprised by the joy. In this case, the joy of an uncomplicated day with my son.

What about you – is the right thing to do is often the hard thing to do?

(featured photo from Pexels)

Embracing the Obstacle

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“The strength of a tree lies in its ability to bend.” – Zen Proverb

The other day my two-year-old found a Q-tip and he picked it up and started to swab the inside of his nostril. I know that kids frequently put things up their noses. After all, I wrote about the funny time my daughter put popcorn up her nose and I had to lay her on the floor, plug her other nostril and blow into her mouth. And then my toddler thought it looked like so much fun, he lined up next to her for his turn. 😊

But back to the nose swab, I’m sure it isn’t just a kid putting things up his nose – it’s all about COVID. As I was telling him not to do that, it reminded me of all that is driving me crazy. And also of the wisdom of embracing the obstacles in front our of ourselves that are our teachers.

I think the last two weeks might have been the most uncomfortable weeks of this pandemic for me. With the surging numbers that are off the charts, the constancy of COVID on the news, and with everything open so we are trying to live more or less as if its business as usual, it has brought so many decisions to my door. Trying to make friends with my experience, I am attempting to lean in to listen to all the things my discomfort is teaching me.

Uncertainty. Right now, when I am incredibly uncertain if I can schedule meetings and work because school or daycare could be cancelled, I accept that certainty has always been a mirage.  Uncertainty makes me feel disoriented but I’m coming to realize that the cure is not grabbing for more certainty but instead bending my knees as if I’m learning to surf.

Responsibility. My awareness of my responsibility to fellow humans has never been so heightened. In this era of contagion, it’s so obvious that we can spread love and light as well as disease. Smiling, laughing and joy are so infectious, especially when we are in the throes of a major surge. And learning the integrity of keeping my kids home from school, testing them, cancelling things myself when needed has been a huge takeaway for me.

Flexibility. This coming weekend we had two big things planned – a kids birthday party and a sleepover at Nana. Both had to be changed because of COVID and then all the other plans we had for the holiday weekend rearranged around them.  And it worked because everyone else is flexible too. I’m learning to accept that if they have to shift again, that too will also be fine.

 I look at what I’ve written and it’s a lot of “trying” and “accepting” and “learning.” It’s all so uncomfortable – kinda like putting a swab up your nose. Which, unlike my toddler and regardless of this attempt to embrace the obstacle, I will never do for fun!

Being vs. Doing

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“I am too alone in the world and not alone enough to make every moment holy.” – Rainier Maria Rilke

Willie Nelson and his son Lukas Nelson were talking about the power of manifesting life on a podcast with Brené Brown that I recently listened to. They suggested that the secret is in dreaming what you want in your life and then letting it go for God to make possible. This secret speaks to the line between being and doing that always confounds me.

When I first wanted to have a baby at age 45, I talked with the general practitioner that I was seeing at the time. She told me to eat organic. I was pretty sure that I needed to do a little more than that to have kids – either that or the organic food industry has a whole other marketing niche they aren’t plugging. 😊 So I went to talk with a fertility specialist next who had some very concrete steps for me to do.

On the other hand, I’ve always joked I’ll get married again when a man falls out of the sky and lands on my head. So far just putting that one out there and letting it manifest hasn’t created any results but I’m not all compelled to take more action in this moment.

I suspect the line between being, just putting it out there and letting it happen in God’s flow, and doing, taking very specific action to make things happen, is so difficult because no one can pass on that wisdom for anyone else’s life. It’s just between us and God. And it’s further complicated, at least for me, because I very much believe that I’m responsible for my own happiness so I don’t leave much for God to do.

Listening to that podcast inspired me to wonder about this balance all over again. The Nelson’s with their deep faith also talked about working hard to practice, embodying the same push and pull of being vs. doing. It illuminated part of my struggle and the beginnings of a solution – I suspect that I’ll never have a line that I can chart with any mathematical precision. Instead I was directed back to my daily practice of listening to the Divine about what I need to do that day, doing my best at that and leaving the rest to God.

(featured image from Pexels)

Spilled Milk

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“Challenges are what make life interesting and overcoming them is what makes life meaningful.” – Joshua J. Marine

Can we talk about spilled milk? I completely believe, “No crying over spilled milk.” When my kids spill milk – no problem. But when I spill milk, I have a much harder time finding graciousness. The other morning I spilled a glass that I had just filled before I could get a top on it. I found myself reviewing my rhythm of the morning trying to find what I hadn’t done well enough so that I was in such a hurry and spilled the milk.

Years ago when I read the famed psychiatrist Dr. Scott Peck’s book The Road Less Traveled for the first time, I was captivated by his explanation of the continuum between neurosis and character disorder. If you are neurotic, you tend to take too much responsibility for the events of your life and if you are character disordered, you tend to take too little. The beautiful takeaway quote from that section is, “…the problem of distinguishing what we are and what we are not responsible for in this life is one of the greatest problems of human existence.”

There is no doubt that I exist on the neurotic side of the continuum and having kids has made it more pronounced.

My tendency to take personal (over)responsibility for one has evolved into personal responsibility for three people. If my kids doddle on the way to bed and I don’t manage to get them to bed on time, I believe it’s my fault that they’ll have a poorer shot to have a good day the next day because they aren’t well-rested. There is a whole post I need to write (and read) on shifting that responsibility from me to them as they age.

But it has created a lot of great ground for meditation. Because as I create space to observe my own ego, I have a much better chance of observing when I overreach the boundaries of my responsibility. Sometimes, the milk just spills.

This brings back a poignant conversation I had with my ex-husband about the concept of neurotic vs. character disordered right around the time we were finalizing our divorce. As I explained what Dr. Peck’s long experience and training in psychiatry revealed, he proclaimed himself the only person that is right in the middle with no tendency one way or the other. It seemed his self-awareness could stretch just enough to know that he was not neurotic but couldn’t quite expand far enough to own that he tends to take too little responsibility. It was such a deeply ironic moment — and one that I remember just quietly witnessing because it explained so much.

There is a delightful space that I find now and again where I can just admit, “I spilled the milk” and laugh about it. When I do, I know I’ve found some balance and the milk is just there to help remind me.

(photo from Pexels)