Personal

The Seeker’s Guide, Elizabeth Lesser

Original Blessing, Matthew Fox

Field Notes on the Compassionate Life: A Search for the Soul of Kindness, Marc Ian Barasch

Dark Side of the Light Chasers, Debbie Ford

Soul Without Shame: A Guide to Liberating Yourself from the Judge within, Byron Brown

A few weeks ago and then, again, a few days ago, something amazing happened. When I dug through my mail, doing my usual sorting, I found more than the junk and the inevitable bills, I stumbled across this new category of postal mail. I tore into these envelopes recklessly to get to something that is rare these days.I found real, live, personally hand-written notes from a friend and one of my daughters. As I read the words, I smiled and I was touched deeply.

We live in a fast paced, high tech world in which communication is almost instantanious and constant. This has come to be essential in the world of business, to be sure. The ease of instant messaging, texting or emailing is something even the most reluctant among us has adopted or at least warmed up to.

But, there is just something so personal about a hand written note in these days when electronic communication is the norm. It took extra time, thought and effort. It also took something I’m not rich in and that is patience. Yes, it does take a day or two for “snail mail” to deliver our thoughts to a real live mail box, rather than an electronic inbox. We have to wait for the delivery…but sometimes, waiting for it makes it more meaningful.

In coaching, we speak always to living a balanced life and reaching out to friends and family is part of that balance. We want to give our attention to the people in our lives, but sometimes we tend to make it hard, so we avoid it. But, hard is just a story, just an excuse to ignore our own need and the need of others to connect.

Why not grab some blank note cards the next time you’re at the store, get a great pen and some stamps (you can order these online!) and start a campaign, set an intention: I will reach out to one person I know and want to stay in touch with by personally written and mailed notes each week.

You can still use facebook to keep up, but for those of us with hundreds of facebook friends, that’s a great place to start for candidates. Among your friends, who would you like to add a special thought through a hand written note? There are only 52 weeks in the year! So many friends, so little time! Get goin’ and I promise you that you’ll enjoy the experience of writing the note just as much as the recipient will when the note is opened and read.

I just returned from my very first trip to the Big Apple and it was love at first bite, once I got in, that is. The weather pattern sent us to Allentown, PA to wait it out. The occasion for the visit was work and fun. One of my daughters (#4 of 5) graduated from college and nursing school in May and passed her state board exam, which now places her in the possession of a registered nursing license and represents a tremendous amount of focus, determination and resilience on her part. It was time to celebrate!

We did most of the usual tourist activities. We rode the subway to the World Trade site and that was a sobering experience. Although I never personally viewed the Towers, much like the site of the Murrah building in Oklahoma City, a sense of hushed holiness was everywhere. This is sacred ground and no signs need to be posted to point it out. The energy shift in the hundreds of other tourist was palpable.

We went to Battery Park and after seeing the five hour waiting line for the water taxi, decided to wave to the leading lady of the harbor, Lady Liberty in all her green glory, from the shore. It was an interesting perspective of her I’d never seen before.

We walked north from the harbor area, through the financial district, down Wall Street and turned north to find China Town, Little Italy and Soho, which is so named because it is an area south of Houston Street. We walked and walked and then walked farther. The distance didn’t register with me because I was engrossed in the moment, the many faces coming toward me, the air rushing over me in the wind tunnel of lower Manhattan, the shops, the gum on the sidewalk, the sprawling smell of ethnic foods, their aromas all blending together in a lip smacking crescendo, being prepared in tiny little restaurant kitchens across the web of the city. We even stumbled upon the filming of a Burger King commercial. When you see poor Burger King running down the streets of NYC with two policemen on his tail, just remember, I was there! We even found out one can get to Yankee Stadium via Queens…it just takes a lot longer. We had a pretty big laugh over that, but we made it to the Bronx and found a “Clemens” t-shirt for my son-in-law with daylight to spare.

(photo courtesy geocities.com)

The highlight of the trip, if there can be only one, was seeing “Wicked” on Broadway. The show is based on the book, Wicked, the Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. The show opens with Glinda the Good in her bubble over Munchkin Land, declaring that the Wicked Witch of the West is, indeed, dead. All the Munchkins cheer but one, who asks Glinda if it is true that the dead witch was actually her friend. That’s the shift in perspective, the twist, the hook that changes the way we saw everything.

In the interest of time and space, the story goes back in time to the school years of both Glinda and Elphaba, nicknamed Elphie. Elphie becomes the Wicked Witch of the West and Glinda becomes Glinda the Good. Elphie is green. You’ll have to see the show to find out how that happens, but I was struck by the idea that there was more than one green leading lady in NYC. Yes, that’s right, Liberty and Elphaba, green and cast in the role of a lifetime. And though they be separated by the years between 1886 and 1939, the message of freedom, possibility and transformation are simply profound mirrors of the possibility that exists for us all always.

Elpheba, meet Lady Liberty…she upstaged you by 53 years, but you share more than your greenness. You share your vision of hope and courage, your beauty and wisdom. It was nice to meet you both in New York. I am green with envy!

Have either of you ever taken the subway to Yankee Stadium via Queens?

Elphaba and Oz

You’re out of the woods
You’re out of the dark
You’re out of the night
Step into the sun, step into the light
Keep straight ahead
For the most glorious place
On the Face of the Earth
Or the sky

Hold onto your breath
Hold onto your heart
Hold onto your hope
March up to the gate
And bid it open

Lady Liberty and America

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Much to my own astonishment, I ran the OKC Marathon in 2007. You can see an earlier post that discusses my experience of being a part of such a meaningful run, but the journey to that moment, the eight months of training, the view from the road while logging untold miles and the lessons I learned along the way about myself are what I will cherish forever.

Since then, running has been a little hit and miss for me. I enjoy it immensely, but it is so easy to make excuses for not taking that first step out my door. It’s too cold, it’s too hot, I’m too tired, I don’t have enough time, I don’t feel well, I didn’t sleep well last night, I need to work. I’m reading a new book. I would be more committed if I were training for an actual event. I could see that I had fallen into a familiar old rut. While my mind churned out excuse after excuse, the authentic me knew they were nothing but B.S. There’s no other way to say it.

I had choices, as we all do from a place of awareness. I was allowing my excuses and justifications to run my life. I was not in charge, a stubborn 15 year old was wielding all the power and I was just trying not to beat myself up about it. I wasn’t doing too well at that. Truth be told, I felt like a loser that I had trained my body to run for five hours at a time only to slide down to the level where pulling out three miles was a real challenge. I remember when it took a good three or four miles for me to even warm up when I was logging 45 miles a week.

When I trained for the marathon, I never ran with ear buds. It was strictly my body, my mind and the road. One of my daughters who ran distance in high school and college warned me that some events won’t allow ear buds and even if they did, I shouldn’t train with them because I would be at a real psychological disadvantage if the battery went dead on my MP3 player mid event and I had never learned the mental fortitude to keep going. She was right and I really leaned on my internal resources April 29, 2007.

Then one weekend not so many weeks ago, I got into a really good book, you know the kind that you just can’t put down? So, I basically sat in a chair all weekend and read that book, cover to cover. On reflection, I thought about how much I enjoyed the story, but how unproductive I felt. Then it hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks. I could download audible versions of books I want to read onto my MP3 player and listen to them while I run! I made the rule that I can only listen to the book while I am running. So, when I can’t bear to wait for the next page or chapter, I have to get my shoes on and hit the road. Brilliant!

I have faithfully logged an average of 12 miles a week since I began this “run and read” program and have even gotten my distance back to 8 miles and climbing. I have really improved how I feel, dropped a few pounds and read a few books I’ve been dying to read.

The real struggle for me here was to resist my temptation to go all the way down the “yellow brick road of beating myself up” because of my lack of motivation. In awareness, I was able to see the pattern and find another way to honor myself enough to take the hardest step in any fitness program, the first step out the door.

Some people say that it is a fine line between sanity and insanity. As my daughter says, I’ll buy that for a dollar. We also walk a line with our human experience . The line we most often walk is living on auto-pilot rather than in awareness. How do we go through the process of daily life with awareness?

It’s a delicate balance, but not a difficult one. It takes presence. To achieve presence in the moment actually takes, well, presence! It requires us to stop and really notice what we are doing in the present moment, as in, I am working at my desk, I am driving my car, I am washing the dishes, the sky is blue, I feel the sun on my face, I feel happy.

The cost of not being present is that we live a life that is marked by the past and punctuated by fear, anxiety and conjecture about the future. All the while, we miss today. We miss out on our own life. I often hear people say, “where has the week gone?” Sometimes we experience momentary awareness and realize entire years, decades even have passed mostly unnoticed and unlived.

An anchor of some kind serves as a reminder to stop and notice what we are doing. Like the infamous string around the finger, we all need something that anchors us and supports us as we forge a new habit. Even if we only have one moment of presence and awareness a day, it would be a step forward for most of us.

I wear a little bracelet that serves as my anchor. When I look at it, I am reminded to stop and be conscious and deliberate about what I am doing, like really looking my 7 year old grand-daughter in the eyes and listening to her tell me about her day at school, really hearing her, noticing her brown eyes and shiny black hair and funny little gestures. In the past, I have set a chime on my computer to remind me to stop and really be in the moment.

The possibility presence creates for us is endless. In presence we have the ability to create anything we desire. Relationships become real, life becomes rich, joy becomes full.

Every moment is precious. The old saying is, “They don’t call it the present for nothing! Presence is a gift!”

Be present to that.

God is but love, and so am I

If I close my eyes, follow my breath and descend into my sacred garden,
love smells like green grasses,
fresh, crisp, with the earthen musk rising as a heavy bottom note,
salty and brined and wet

I push through dense jungle, tropical rain forest toward light,
my way dappled by crystal glimpses of the prize.

Then I stop. I look around. I remember,
I am the prize,
this moment both the beginning and the endless

A bright shaft of light finds its way to me,
where I stand in remembrance
of my ancient identity
I am whole

Amen

A wise man once said that something is only worth what a person is willing to pay for it. The dictionary says that worth is something of significant value to justify investment of time or interest. When referring to objects, I suppose this is true. A 1966 Ford Mustang 289 V8 with a 4 barrel carburetor holds a certain value based upon what buyers have been willing to pay for it in the past. According to a recent web search, that price is somewhere around $10,000 to $14,000. This is an interesting fact given the Mustang could be purchased new for approximately $2500 from 1964 to 1968.

When applying worth to people, the concept becomes a bit more complex. My dad used to say that he was worth more dead than alive. I didn’t know what that meant until I became an adult. He died when I was 27, and I can tell you that he was wrong. He was worth a whole lot more to me when he was alive. But what is any life worth?

My feelings of worthiness and unworthiness have fluctuated as my life has progressed. When I was a child, my sense of worth depended upon my outside world and the way others treated me. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Griffin, loved me and thought I was a brilliant and entertaining child. My second grade teacher, Mrs. Houck hated my guts. I couldn’t do anything right and spent an inordinate amount of time in the cloakroom or out in the hall. I didn’t feel very worthy in third grade to tell you the truth. By fourth grade, I had transformed into a wonderful student who was a leader in her class in academics and citizenship. I led by example and Mrs. Galvin adored me and truly valued me. She followed the dictionary definition of worth to the letter. I was definitely a child of significant value to justify the investment of her time and interest. That was the year that I developed my theory that odd numbered grades would be bad and even numbered grades would be great years.

Feelings of worthiness are what dictate the way I experience life, what joy, love, success, fun and pleasure I will allow myself to receive.

When my feelings of worthiness are attached to what I do, from my achievements, bank account, address or body, I become a human doing instead of a human being. I don’t value myself for who I am, but for what I can accomplish. What happens if I get older and can’t accomplish the things I once could? What if I am in a terrible accident and can no longer be a productive member of society in the traditional sense? Do I become less valuable? We say no, but we mean yes. I would become a to-be-pitied drain on social resources if I had no other support system. I would feel badly about that and I would feel worthless.

While every moment will be different, the moments that I spend cultivating my inherent worthiness is time well spent. I do this by trying to expose the behaviors I engage in that undermine my feelings of worthiness and then make a conscious effort to make a better choice that will leave me feeling worthy.

I’m worth that!

From my perspective as a coach, I see a lot of historical baggage in the ways we all choose to view conflicts in all areas of life  My job is not to judge my clients, but to create and maintain a safe space for them to explore their lives, look at things they have been unwilling to examine before and know that they do not have to face it alone. The truth is, we are humans…remember? There are no mistakes and every moment of our lives serve to create the person we are today, with all of our very unique gifts.

It is easy for us all to see what is wrong with others, but our job is to tie all of the content of our judgements back to a process that can lead us to a plan of action that is aligned with our goals.

Another part of my job is to help you look at current boundaries and standards and help you develop more effective ones that are also in alignment with your vision. Tough conversations are another part of our work together as is cleaning up the past. We cannot move forward without cleaning up the past. To do this we have to practice radical honesty with ourselves and others. What is the one incompletion that most impacts your life today? What would be possible if you were willing to make a completion around this?

My job is also to challenge you about ways you have always been in the world, who you believe yourself to be and the associated behavior necessary to uphold that story line, identity. Sometimes we have to be willing to give up the person we have always believed ourselves to be in order to become the next version of ourselves. That’s a pretty scary proposition for most of us. It requires that we let go of our attachments, our little ways we practice control, our belief in the illusion of what goes on around us. We are in the word, but we must always remember that we are not “of” the world. There is a difference.

Don’t let your ego structure drag you around by the hair any longer. You get to choose what kind of life you live, how you will be treated by yourself and others and what standards you desire to live your life around. Review these often because they change as we grow. Life is not an all or nothing proposition. Just relax, take a breath and know that the perfect outcome will be achieved in due time, due process and due diligence.

When you have an opportunity to practice emotional responsibility and maturity, do so.

I encourage you to just stand still, do nothing, be gentle and compassionate with this entire process in times of confusion or deep emotional buy in. Please be willing to give yourself  time. Stand in your own integrity and be willing to believe the best about everyone involved…even if you don’t want to. Never forget that how you choose to show up at work has an impact on everyone around you…everyone can be lifted up or left hanging by the grace and dignity you choose or do not choose to exercise in your life. Be a blessing today and everyday to what ever extent it is possible.

,

When I was in high school in the 1970s, A spoken-word recording of an essay, penned in 1927 by Max Ehrmann, was made by Les Crane and reached #8 on the Billboard magazine charts in late 1971. The Desiderata was essentially a manifesto for living a meaningful life and it spoke to me as I came of age.

Here are some basic facts about what was going on in the United States during the 1920s, the era when this essay was born from the heart and mind of Ehrman, compliments of the Kingwood College Library:

106,521,537 people in the United States
2,132,000 unemployed, Unemployment 5.2%
Life expectancy: Male 53.6, Female 54.6
343.000 in military (down from 1,172,601 in 1919)
Average annual earnings $1236; Teacher’s salary $970
Dow Jones High 100 Low 67
Illiteracy rate reached a new low of 6% of the population.
Gangland crime included murder, swindles, racketeering
It took 13 days to reach California from New York There were 387,000 miles of paved road.

Some basic facts about the decade of the 1970s are offered from the same source:
Population: 204,879,000
Unemployed in 1970: 4,088,000
National Debt: $382 billion
Average salary: $7,564
Food prices: milk, 33 cents a qt.; bread, 24 cents a loaf; round steak, $1.30 a pound
Life Expectancy: Male, 67.1; Female, 74.8

The point I’d like to make is that regardless of where we are in life, when we are born or what is going on around us, deep within us, our soul’s desires change little. Outside of the ego structure that we have developed through out our lives, I assert that our authentic and essential selves remain pure and untouched.

I offer this beautifully wise and inspired essay as it is found in it’s copyrighted format:

DESIDERATA
Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others; even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in oyur own career however humble; it is a real posession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism

Be yourself. Espacially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy

MAX EHRMANN 1927

Writer’s note: This is an article I wrote one year ago and was originally published in The Newcastle Pacer and Inside Southside newspapers. I share it here now as an offering of remembrance to those who suffered loss on April 19, 1995.

A run to remember—A view from the road

When I began this series of columns about creating the best year of my life last January, completing the 2007 Oklahoma City Marathon was already a goal. It was a goal despite the fact that I had only been running consistently since September. And when I spoke the words aloud, I fought back the nagging little voice within that whispered, who do you think you are? You’re not a runner! You have never been able to run, even as a kid. What makes you think you can say something like that?

I didn’t really know where to start, so I searched online and found a mileage build up schedule that would get me ready to begin actual training for the marathon. I did what the schedule said to do, one day at a time, one step at a time. My goal was to complete the build up phase by December 31, 2006. With that behind me, my next goal was to train for the marathon over the next four months.

Some weeks my training came with ease. Some weeks, I counted every step. I ran in the wind and the rain and the sleet and on the snow. I ran in the daylight and I ran in the darkness. In fact, I fell in the darkness one evening after work, injuring my left clavicle, although not seriously. Regardless of how grueling a training run was, I always ended with a real sense of accomplishment that I ran the mileage on my own two feet.

I had the joy of running with one of my daughters at least once a week,on the long Sunday runs. She and I ran the Marathon together. I had the support of all of family and friends, and practically every step I ran, I was followed closely by my husband, who rode his bike faithfully behind me. He carried a back pack filled with water, sports drinks, energy blocks, chap stick, gloves…any thing he thought I might need to make it, he carried on his back.

The view from the road is unique. Neighborhoods offer up their personality to the passing runner. Some are teeming with children, while others are more mature. Trees of a feather tend to flock together. Sprinkler begatssprinkler. Where one luscious green lawn thrives, three others aspire to its velvety beauty. Horse ranches sprawl out along the river bottom in the ten mile flats in Norman. City drivers are distracted and hurried. Country drivers raise their right index finger to say hello. Sunrise breaks with promise and clarity. Sunset retreats with a bonnet of calm.

I ran through five pairs of shoes and covered a few thousand miles. I learned about stretching and soaking and the power of little things that add up over the miles. I realized how much I had taken for granted and how ungrateful I could be. I found the inner strength to challenge what I knew to be possible for myself and ran through that wall.

When I arrived at the event in the wee hours of Sunday morning, the darkness obscured everything from my vision. As I pushed my way past other runners, a vision emerged from the blackness. From nothing rose 168 lighted chairs, floating above a serene, still water. I clutched my throat as I thought back to 9:03 a.m. on April 19, 1995.

I fought back tears as I sat down on the steps. I absorbed the presence and the purpose and the dignity with which these individuals gave up their lives. I understood in my soul that I was on holy ground. When the prayer service began under the Survivor Tree at 5:30 a.m. I knew exactly why we run. We run to remember.

I did not run alone. When I felt weak or tired or hot or thirsty, I remembered the 168 souls for which I ran. They inspired my every step. They were with me every step of the way, offering courage and strength and life. It took me 5 hours, forty minutes and forty-six seconds to cover 26.2 miles, and when I crossed the finish line strong, cheered on by my loving family and supportive friends, I knew why I had run. I ran to remember.