Endings--Happy or Otherwise

I have been thinking a lot about endings lately--and contemplating what it looks like to end well.  It is actually really hard to work in a school without thinking about how to end things in the month of June.  I am also wrapping up my coaching certification program and so this idea of ending well is personal as well at the moment.

What does ending well mean and what gets in our way?  I'll start with what I find stops us from ending well:

Not surprisingly, we mentally move on before we physically move on--and not ending well often hinges on this, for our minds are powerful.  When we decide we are done, we are done.  One classic example of this is the phenomenon known in schools across America as senioritis--when all the students on track to graduate in the spring find it hard to stay motivated to do their work.  We all get that sort of feeling when we know we are about to be done with something--like a job or even a relationship.  It's hard to keep putting in effort when you have already decided to move on.  What this leads to, though, in addition to not fulfilling our responsibilities, is often some guilt over either not doing our best or of cutting corners on our way out the door.

It can also happen that we get caught up in the expectations and feelings of others as we ready ourselves to move on, weighed down by guilt or wanting approval.  Other people aren't necessarily great at accepting change they haven't chosen and so they might be resentful, or they might just want nothing to change and fight the reality of the situation in front of them tooth and nail.  Either of these responses can play out in unreasonable requests for us to work harder and more hours before we leave a job or to take on and finish a project on a short timeline.  They can play out in mean or petty comments.  They can play out in being given the cold shoulder.  In the face of these reactions, we might find ourselves trying to make it better or keep the peace by acting according to what will make others happy or placate them rather than doing what we need.  The reality of the situation is that you can't hold yourself responsible for other's feelings and create your own happiness.  That is a losing battle (in this context or pretty much any other--but that is another blog post)!

Sometimes we end poorly because we have mixed or negative feelings related to moving on.  Maybe we feel we have been forced out of an organization--either actively or passively--and this can lead us to want some revenge, often extracted by doing very little.  Perhaps we feel we have been wronged in a relationship and we want to make the other person or people feel that same pain so we do something petty or actively mean.  This approach to ending though usually ends in pain and bitterness--and it rarely actually makes us feel better for it doesn't undo what was done in the first place.

Having mixed feelings about an ending, even if they aren't necessarily negative, can mean that sometimes we end poorly because we would rather not cope with wrapping things up, or we don't know how to close out that experience or relationship.  Say for example I am moving out of state and this means I will leave a job I really love when I do.  I am excited for the move but I love these people and this work and it's hard for me to say good-bye.  I act like nothing is changing for as long as I can--still engaging in my daily work and on the last day, I rush through hurried good-byes, never really telling people how much I enjoyed working with them and what our work together has meant to me.  This can be just as dissatisfying of an end--because it doesn't truly reflect how I feel and because it is incomplete.

How do we manage the complexity of all the feelings we can have about moving on?  First, cultivate self-awareness.  Are you pissed off and feeling slighted?  Are you just tired and ready for something new? Are you sad or even apprehensive?  Knowing what you are feeling is the first order of business as it can indicate why you might lean in one direction or another in terms of your behavior as you wrap up.

To that self-awareness, add some reflection.  What matters to you about how you move on?  Why is that important? If you don't spend some time thinking about and planning how you want to end, chances are high you won't end as you had hoped.  This is just as important if you are ending on a positive note as if you aren't.  As I wrap up my coaching certification program, it's important to me to get everything I can out of my supervision and time with experienced coaches.  That gives me a goal--something to focus on when I feel tired and just ready to be done with the homework and calls and readings.

Using your own goal, decide what you can and can't do in terms of ending well--where you want to invest your energy.  For me, this might mean that I put less time into some of the written homework and more time into preparing thoughtfully for my last few calls with experienced coaches.  In the situation of leaving a job, perhaps you would like to have a conversation with your boss about what did and didn't work about the position you are leaving--but you know that you can't have it without getting incensed and feeling slighted by him and the way the organization functions.  Decide if you want to invest the time and energy here.  Maybe you would rather spend the energy you have on wrapping up important projects and handing them off well to colleagues.


The beauty of an ending you choose is that you do get to write it as you wish.  Make it satisfying by aligning the way you end to the way you feel and your own goals.  Choose what matters to you and then direct your time and attention to the right places so that you can end well in your own estimation.

Three Reasons Change is Hard

In my coaching work, I interact with many people who want to make changes in their lives.  This is probably not shocking news.  After all, it's human nature to want to evolve and grow--all of which requires change.  It is also true that changing something about our lives or our interactions with someone in our lives can be extremely difficult.  Here are some of the reasons why that is:

1. Making change takes conscious, consistent effort.  We are hardwired in a way that actually makes change more work for us.  As human beings, our brains crave patterns as a way of understanding.  Our brains understand scripts and establish actions and reactions as habits.  Once something is a habit, it takes more work for us to shift it.  Here's why: when an action or set of actions fall into the habit loop, our brain is essentially on autopilot as it completes the loop.  This saves our brain energy and reduces the number of choices it has to make in any given day to a manageable number--and it makes it harder to shift our actions and change our habits.

One way to overcome this challenge is to bring your conscious attention to the pattern--and to pay close attention.  This can often require patience with yourself as you observe and take notes on or journal about the loop you want to change before you actually change it.  What's the cue?  What's the reward?  Usually what we are trying to change is the routine--but without cracking into the other two, that can be especially challenging.  Then, you can get to work on using what you know about the cue and reward to tackle the routine.

2. I think it was FDR who said something like, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself," and he hit the nail on the head with that one.  Change can be scary--and without even realizing we are acting out of fear, we will talk ourselves out of the very change we most want, and the actions that will help to bring it about.

Let's say, for example, that Susan doesn't like her job.  It is stifling and every day that she drives to work, she finds herself less and less enthusiastic about going.  In fact, she even starts to get mild physical symptoms at the very thought of going to work--a slight headache, a queasy stomach.  On a few different occasions she has convinced herself that the only solution is to start looking for another job--and then something happens between there and actually applying.  As she looks through ads, or works to capture her experience on her resume, she sees the holes between the list of preferred experience and her own.  She puts the resume away with half-finished job descriptions.  She never writes a cover letter for this job she worries she couldn't possibly get. 

Fear can stop us from even trying to make changes that would be good for us, and that is why we should fear it--because it can keep us stuck.  Fear stops forward movement, often because it aims to protect--which has it's place--but can also prevent us from living fully.  Someone besides FDR observed:  "A ship in a harbor is safe, but that is not what ships are built for."

The best strategy I know of here is letting yourself be afraid and doing something anyway.  This requires some self-awareness and some vigilance--and sometimes enlisting a close friend or family member to deliver tough love at just the right moment and call us out when we are unwittingly letting our fears stop us.  I think I'm going to write that quote about the ship on a card and post it where I will see it every day so I won't forget the sentiment.

3.  There is some tension between us as individuals and the communities of people we are part of.  We make the decision to change inside our heads and the world around us conspires to keep things the same, making it even harder to do differently.  This is really just another way of saying that reason #1 that it's hard to change applies to others as well as ourselves.

Let's say for example that you decide to interact differently with your mother.  You are sick of every conversation leading to you feeling defensive and ending in an argument.  You do some work to shift how you take in what your mother says.  You begin to shift the way you hear her and how you respond, but your mother is so used to the pattern that it seems like she is trying to start an argument at every turn. 

What to do with this challenge?  Remember that people respond to our actions much more than to what we say, so take it day by day.  The more committed we are to the new way of being or acting, the easier it will be to get other people on board with us--but accept at the outset that it will take a while--and that you will change before others change how they respond to or interact with you.  It can be helpful to know what you will say or do if the old pattern flares up.  This can give you an alternative route instead of falling into the old pattern.

What are some of the barriers you have experienced when making a change and how have you overcome them?

Looking for Pleasant Surprises

I never imagined I would become a hockey fan.  Of all the sports I have been exposed to, hockey was one of the few that just never captured my interest--mostly because I couldn't make sense of it.  Even when I had friends who played in college and I would attend their games to support them, I didn't get it--and I didn't care to put much energy into getting it.  These days, I find myself sacrificing sleep to watch the Bruins in the playoffs, talking with co-workers about last minute wins and griping about terrible calls.  It's surprising---even to me--so I was curious to examine how this happened.

The most obvious thing is that I found a reason to care about hockey.  My significant other really enjoys hockey.  It matters to him and seeing the Bruins play is important to him.  I started watching games with him, doing other things like paying bills or sorting mail or fixing the hem on a skirt, while he cheered and groaned.  Gradually, I understood a bit more of what was happening--he explained, I asked, it all started to come together.  It is also nice to enjoy (or be disappointed by) the game with him.  We get to share an experience when I actually watch and try to understand what's happening, otherwise, we are just two people in the same place--me sewing, him watching hockey.  Taking the former approach allows us to share our responses and to experience excitement or disappointment together--and the chance at having that connection certainly helped to motivate me to care more about hockey.

I have also realized that learning and appreciating something new has its own appeal--especially in this case where I had decided I would never like or understand hockey.  First, there is a sense of accomplishment and even a little pride in understanding something I never thought I would understand.  Second, there is a surprise in liking something I never thought I would enjoy.  It feels like I'm a different person is some ways, and knowing I can grow and change and surprise even myself is reassuring.  Life gets boring when it is too stagnant and even though that is comfortable, I would rather know that some facet of my life or some aspect of how I define myself (not a hockey lover in this case) can change.

Is there something you wish you had, or a connection with a person you wish was stronger, or an interest of your own that you wish was more present.  If so, do something that connects you to that--even if you tried it before and didn't like it.  Want some space in your life? Try meditation.  Have a good friend who loves sushi--go out to her favorite restaurant for dinner.  Have a friend who loves baseball? Watch a game together.  Pick up that novel you put down after 10 pages 2 years ago.  Try rock climbing--again.  Call your mother just to say hi.  Give yourself the permission to still hate whatever it was you just tried.  Give yourself the permission to change your mind and enjoy it.

It is a gift to be surprised by our own lives--and to get that gift, we have to be willing to try something--something new or something we turned away from before.  Not doing that is a sure way to stay who we were yesterday.  It's much more fun to be in the moment--that is where the surprises are--so try it.  Do something now that isn't informed by what used to be.  You might just be pleasantly surprised.

Spring Cleaning

Each spring of my childhood, my mother and grandmother would pick a Saturday in the early spring and do their spring cleaning.  They cleaned regularly but this Saturday was a time for the most extensive sort of clearing out and cleaning up.  They had my father and grandfather up on ladders, cleaning gutters, washing windows, taking shutters off to hose them down--and inside the house every curtain was coming down, every sheet and blanket was peeled off the beds and buckets of Lysol scented water made their way throughout the house for shelves and walls and floors to be scoured.  This cleaning was so extensive that it required some preparation and coordination--the date was chosen and we all knew to prepare for spring cleaning well in advance--and it took the full day--we started at 7 am and usually didn't finish until after dinner when the last curtains went back up and the beds were reassembled just in time to collapse into them. There was also something really refreshing and beautiful that spring cleaning gave us--everything looked and smelled newer, fresher--and the light in the house was different as the season changed outside.  There was something satisfying about the alignment between the world outside the house and inside of it.

Looking back, one thing I appreciate about those spring cleaning days was the fresh start, the reset.  Nothing really changed and still, it all felt different.  Sometimes we need just that--a reason to look at what we are used to seeing with a new set of eyes.  Spring cleaning always brought that shift in perspective.  Through the clean windows and freshly washed curtains, the light was brighter and the outside world was more vibrant.  The fresh scent of outside would come off the curtains for days after they had been dried on the clothesline.  It strikes me that sometimes life and our looking at it calls out for a reset.  It is possible to make that happen in our lives when we need it.  I know I was feeling sort of tired and as if my energy was dragging.  I decided to do a fruit cleanse--and put it on the calendar for after two big events I had been dreading, just to create a fresh start for myself.  If there is something you are feeling not quite happy about, maybe it's time for a spring cleaning of sorts.  Where are you stuck and what would cause a shift? Maybe you have found yourself being snappy with your loved ones.  Take a day off, an evening off, or if you can swing it, a weekend away.  Maybe you are feeling tired.  Cut out TV and be in bed by 9 with a good book for a week.  Perhaps you are wanting to restart your exercise routine.  Take a walk after work or first thing in the morning.  Maybe your schedule feels too busy.  Schedule 2 or 3 hours of open space for yourself once a week for a month.  What the reset looks like depends on what you want to shift, but take a lesson from my grandmother--put it on the calendar and then commit to it with all your energy. Get others involved in your project.  And then appreciate what's different, knowing you have the option to create that shift any time you choose.

Expand or Contract?

Like many other Bostonians, I have found my attention repeatedly drawn to the bombing at the finish line of the Marathon on Monday.  First, I was glued to the news, watching the surreal images replay in front of me, wondering what I could learn about what happened and quickly realizing that even the newscasters knew very little.  Simultaneously, I was on facebook and my phone, making sure those near and dear to me were ok.  In my head several busy thoughts came and went including who would do this and why, how and when will this person be caught, how many people have been hurt and how badly, and how would this change the Marathon.

Wednesday morning, I got on the T for the first time since the bombs went off.  As I made my way downtown, to get a haircut only blocks from the site of the bombings, I noticed what looked like National Guardsmen on the T platforms.  I got off the T at Arlington, because the Copley stop remains closed.  There I walked past 2 more military looking officers, a state police officer and a Boston police officer.  I got above ground only to see more police directing traffic and pedestrians.  I crossed Boylston, walking by at least 20 news vans and lots of lights and cameras to get to Newbury.  Famed for its ritzy shopping, even this street was quiet for a beautiful day, with many stores closed and far fewer people than is typical.  I passed closed side streets, keeping people away from the actual site of the bombings.  I passed a TV cameraman filming two police officers investigating a suspicious bag.  I was jarred by the whole experience as I arrived at the salon for a haircut.  I was or wasn't less safe than I had been 2 days earlier, but the world seemed less safe than it had been.  I questioned my choice to pursue business as usual at this moment.

I had a lot of time to think while I was sitting there at the salon and my mind went back to my morning yoga practice.  The teacher said something that had hit home--our desired state of being is expansion.  I thought of many examples, all of which seemed to prove this true.  I am always looking to learn something new and integrate it into my yoga practice, my teaching practice or my leadership work.  I love learning about new ideas and seeing how they connect with what I already know.  Going somewhere new or meeting someone new energizes me and sheds new light on my default perspectives and attitudes.  Through my coaching work, I see clients who seek expansion in their family lives, their personal relationships, their work, their understanding of themselves.  I could go on and on, but suffice to say that I quickly compiled significant evidence to support this idea--it is human nature to seek expansion, what's bigger, what's next. 

In the wake of the bombings at the Boston Marathon on Monday, I have found myself instinctively wanting to contract.  I have wanted to stay home, to be safe.  I have found my thoughts drawn to those closest to me.  I have wanted them to stay home, to be safe.  I have found myself worrying and getting lost inside scary what-ifs in my brain.  Once downtown, I found myself jarred by the reminders of the bombing.  All these things close my world down, make it smaller.  Fear has made me want to withdraw, to turn in.

So, the question is what to do? As my yoga teacher pointed out, our work is to create the space to expand into.  Without the space, the desire is not enough.  How do we get back to the natural state of things--our desire to expand, our ability to draw energy and joy from expanding--even in the face of something nasty?


I have been touched by the stories I have heard--a woman given a finisher's medal by a stranger or a mom and her two kids cared for at a medical tent while they waited for their husband/dad to make his way to them.  A friend described how she was walking in the rain the day after the Marathon as part of a recovery plan from foot surgery and a car pulled over and the driver asked if she was ok or needed a ride anywhere.  Downtown yesterday, I saw an impromptu memorial at the barricades that block Clarendon street--flowers and signs left to remember the victims, to issue a call for peace, to express solidarity with Boston.  And then there are the many organized events popping up to walk or run the last mile or the last 5 miles or even to share people's best Marathon memories.

How do we get back to expansion even when there is fear?  The answer is to expand anyway, through the fear.  All of these stories are about people reaching out instead of closing down.  Heck, even running a Marathon is a great example of expansion!  These stories all demonstrate the best of human nature, the best of making space, the best of being bigger instead of smaller.

What I refuse to let these bombings take from me is the belief that human beings are basically good.  I refuse to let these bombings separate me from my community with a fear of being part of public celebrations--like the Marathon.  Because of Monday's events that is a little scary, but more scary is living a life or living in a world where everything is contracted.  How will you fight the urge to contract when you feel it?  What can you do to create the space to expand?  Think about these things--but more importantly go do them.  Expand yourself into action today.  Getting bigger when it's a challenge will allow you to expand even more down the line, creating the space to grow into.

Wanting: An Evolutionary Force

I've been feeling restless lately--unsettled.  And that has shown up in several ways--the parts of my job that I don't love the most are feeling more significant than they really are, I can't finalize a plan about where and when to take my summer vacation, I sometimes can't even sit still and read one thing without my brain jumping around to a long list of to-do's or finding myself physically starting to get up without even knowing where I am going.  Wanting makes me restless--sometimes even before I know what I want--or even that I want something.  There is a deep, instinctive part of us that wants things--our inner "wanter"--and there are reasons we should always be listening for what that part of us is saying--even if the message is a little garbled at times..

That wanter voice will tell us what we have outgrown in our lives and point us toward what we want more of.  The restlessness is sometimes around a specific thing--such as a job or a relationship--or, taken together, several areas where we are restless tell us something we are after.  In my case, I want more freedom than I have right now--and so anything that feels like it restricts that is making me restless--scheduling my vacation feels like limiting the freedom there, the little things in my job make me feel more tied down at work, even sitting still feels like I am being restrained.  Those things are not always true.  There are days, weeks even, where I love sitting down, staying still and reading or where having a really busy and full schedule feels productive.  Right now, however, my body and mind rebel.  Maybe that sounds like a terrible feeling--and I'll admit, it has been frustrating at times, but I'm actually thankful for the restlessness.  It tells me where to set my sights--even when I am not sure what the path there will look like.

The wanter in us is always looking forward, and in that way, it moves us forward.  Speaking concretely, let's say you have an old friend and you have been growing in opposite directions for a while.  You don't enjoy spending time with this person as much as you used to and you have far fewer common interests than you once did.  Your wanter might get restless about this relationships before you are consciously aware that it needs to change. You might find yourself with many reasons not to pick up this person's calls.  You might find yourself avoiding places you might run into her. You might find yourself filling your days with plans without this person--and all before you could ever articulate out loud that you don't want to sustain that friendship as it has been.  Wanting something pulls us forward, toward evolution and change--things we might resist if we were asked to pursue them.  Wanting starts us moving, even when we aren't sure what we are moving toward.  Wanting makes staying still more uncomfortable than going forward.

What's my point?  Cultivate some restlessness.  Look for it, blow a little air on it and see what flares up.  Sure, sometimes we want something totally obvious--those new shoes, a piece of chocolate cake, to go outside on a sunny day--and sometimes it's more subtle than that--a feeling that evolves like a desire for more freedom.  Don't fall into the trap of stamping out those uneasy, restless feelings just because they are complex enough to be slightly fuzzy.  Check them out, explore them.  See what they can tell you--and if you can't make it out yet, keep listening.  Be patient as the picture clears and the image comes into focus.  And don't wait until you have all the how's and why's figured out to move in that direction.

Making and Keeping Commitments

6:10, Saturday morning.  The alarm went off one snooze ago and I was tempted to just turn it off and roll over.  It was hard to get up and out to the yoga class I had made a mental plan to attend.  Still, I managed to do it and felt better by two and a half hours later. What made the difference though between sleeping in and getting up I wondered?

I read something recently in a book called The Tools by Phil Stutz and Barry Michels about commitment that  seems closely related to this question.  The authors write: "The biggest difference between those who succeed and those who fail at any endeavor is their level of commitment.  Most people would like to be committed.  But in practice, commitment requires an endless series of small painful actions."

This got me thinking about what I was really committed to and how I knew.  Maybe you have made a commitment to something--or maybe you want to--or maybe you thought you had but following through is proving a real challenge.  Here's where I started to look to understand my commitments.

Do you know why this matters? The answer here needs to be big--and personally meaningful.  Something like, "exercise" isn't big enough.  It should be something like "I want to be healthier" or maybe even, "I want to feel better about myself."  It's important to really care about your why. Sometimes I get hung up here and pick something I think I should care about, or that other people care about for me.  This is a sure way to end up with an obligation rather than a commitment--and I tend to find more guilt than inspiration on that road.

Let's look at that early yoga class--and the moment when push came to snooze.  Getting up was a small, painful action.  Was I committed to the yoga class though?  I actually dragged myself out of bed for the feeling I get from yoga--the physical exercise of it and also the mental peace it brings me.  Yoga is simply a tool to achieve that end, but my commitment is to more internal balance and less stress.  Yoga class, or getting there, is sometimes a small, painful action. To keep my commitment, I need a good enough reason to choose that pain or when the going gets tough...you know the rest.

There is a critical importance to knowing the why of any commitment--and there is a necessity for actions that support it. Do you have action steps and habits to help you do the big thing you want to do? In my example, the big thing I want is more balance, maybe I should even call it inner peace.  Going to yoga regularly is the action I take to help me achieve that.  It's a habit for me now to pack my yoga bag, roll up my mat and take them to work.  That makes going to yoga regularly a lot easier.  That makes feeling balanced a lot more possible.

Without actions or habits to hold onto in the day to day reality of my life, a big desire rarely translates into an actual commitment.  My tool didn't have to be yoga.  It could have been meditation, or it could have been kickboxing.  What mattered was that I found something that worked for me.  Taking actions or developing habits that support your desire is where the rubber meets the road.  When there's something you want, it's worth figuring out specific things you will do to get it and making those actions as much of a pattern as possible so they stick.

This practice of incorporating actions and habits, however, calls for patience.  Sometimes I forget that instilling new habits takes time--even when the why is really meaningful. (I've heard statistics ranging from 30-50 days as the time frame it take to change a habit.)  I tend to want the change to happen in the time it takes for me to make the mental commitment--and if it doesn't, I can feel discouraged.  If I try to change too much at once, I can get overwhelmed and if I try to change too little, it seems to have no impact and I lose my motivation.  It's a fine balance--picking things I can do and taking on enough to see the progress.

The other kind of patience it's important to maintain is patience with yourself.  I usually expect myself to be able to carry off a commitment without faltering--and then when I mess up or don't follow through perfectly, I am disappointed and consider giving up.  In moments like that, I need to remind myself that the small, painful action here is picking myself up and trying again.  My patience needs several layers--and when I want to follow through on a commitment and still am not, this is often where I find the breakdown.

It's important to commit wisely--for I am coming to realize that commitments don't start hard and get easy.  A real commitment--staying married, building a secure financial future, doing what you love with your time--always includes a challenge.  Master one challenging aspect and there's another behind it.  Keeping those commitments despite the challenges requires strategies we can rely on--over and over--and it requires the right motivation and mindset to stick with it.

Navigating the Obstacles of Daily Life

As I drove to work earlier this week, it was snowing--and as the pace of the precipitation was picking up, traffic was slowing down.  I was at least two-thirds of the way to work when I ended up behind a large, slow Frito-Lay box truck.  I was anxious to get to work as the snow had already added time to my commute.  The truck was slowly making his way through the last stretch of a busy street before I could turn off and get to work--and I felt trapped.  I started to get frustrated.  I couldn't see what could possibly be causing him to go so slowly for so long...and I just wanted to get where I was going.  As I sat behind the truck for what felt like too long, I started to realize there had to be a red light up ahead.  Whatever originally caused the truck to slow down had led us to a legitimate need to wait.  While I sat there, recovering a little patience, a Subaru wagon drove casually up the right where parked cars would normally be and turned down a side street.  Then the truck started to move and I realized that giving the driver a bit of space might enable me to see much more of what was happening.  I started to back off even more.  Several pauses in my journey later, I took a deep breath, exhaled a big sigh, looked at the clock and realized I was still going to get to work on time.

Imagine this whole story as a metaphor.  There is something you want--in my case to get to work--and so you are headed toward it--with a specific path in mind and a specific timeline of how long it should take to get there--and maybe some expectations about what the whole journey will look like.  Something gets in your way--that Frito-Lay truck.  This obstacle slows you down, or prevents you from seeing your path, or following your path, and causes you delays.  You too might get frustrated.  What's your next move?

A. Be the Subaru wagon--get around the obstacle by taking a different path.  This seems like common sense--but I was on my path that morning and I lost sight of my alternatives.  I could have gone around the truck too.  There are at least three ways to wind through that final neighborhood and get to work.  Two things got in my way here: routine and expectations. I have a route I generally take to work.  That's my routine.  The truck interfered with my routine but I didn't consider changing my routine.  I wanted my commute to go as I expected it, as I planned it. Had I been a bit more flexible about either my drive taking longer or taking a different path, I might have saved myself some frustration.

B. Back off and take a bigger view.  As I backed off and quit tailgating that truck, I could see more and understand more.  I could see that light turn yellow then red.  I could see the crossing guard stop the truck for pedestrians to pass.  With the extra space, I had a better understanding of what was going on.  Every moment is a complex set of interconnected dynamics and sometimes, it's a little space and perspective that we need to really understand a situation and what's in our way.  This space and understanding then help us choose a good response.

C. Relax with what is--and I mean this in a "put it all in perspective" sort of way, not a "say everything is fine while you are seething inside and steam is coming out of your ears" sort of way.  This is actually about accepting the interplay of your plans and reality.  When a difference between these two occurs and I can't accept it, I do things like tailgate and admonish other drivers from inside my car, trying to control the situation or at least getting sucked into it.  When I actually relax, I see that often, there's not really a problem--for example that I wasn't even late to work.

It's inevitable that things will sometimes get in the way of the path you mentally lay out--or in my case, physically follow.  What's not inevitable is getting irritated by or about this. What's not inevitable is being stuck or trapped because of this.  Those are choices--just like going around or backing off or accepting what is.

Learning to Live with a Little Fear

What is it about getting things right that matters?  I mean really--I work with many competent people who I give permission (mentally or actually) to mess up or not know on a daily basis--but sometimes I fear doing those things myself.  Some people might not see that as problematic and could rationalize that as my having high standards for myself.  The trap in this way of thinking though, is that the fear of messing up can get in the way of my trying new things or make me regret rather than appreciate going through an inevitable learning curve. 

This lines up with something I read recently about risk taking and failure as the only real way to get better at something.  The writer was citing research findings from Harvard psychologist Daniel Gilbert whose work shows that we fear failure will hurt more than it does. Gilbert found not only that, but also that when we don't act because of that fear, the things we never did become the territory for regret.  Essentially, Gilbert's findings are that we should experience, experiment and fail rather than play it safe and "get it right." 

I can see that I have gravitated over time toward things I like, things that align with my strengths, and thus things I am good at.  There's nothing wrong with that on one level.  Honestly, it's a bit of a relief not to be trying to do it all--like the equivalent of taking flute lessons and learning to speak Spanish and going to soccer camp all at once when you were a little kid.  As I found hobbies I loved or academic subjects I preferred to study, though, and I went further and further in those directions, I moved farther away from what I didn't know or what pushed me outside my comfort zone.  I have gone in the direction of things I am good at--and this has led me farther and farther into comfort and away from risk.

As I experience less risk, I then become less comfortable with the fear.  For example, I have been working on several arm balances in my yoga practice.  If you ask me in the abstract what would be so bad about falling out of headstand or crow, I would say I might get a bump or bruise, or honestly worse that that, it might be embarrassing.  If you ask me if that is a big enough concern to stop me, I would say no.  Put me in a room full of other people doing yoga though and every time I go into headstand, I hit a moment of hesitation-- an instant of fear.  I typically push through it but it's amazing that it hasn't gone away!  The lesson I am finding there is about the importance of experiencing risk so that I have a tolerance for it--because I am beginning to see that the fear doesn't really go away as much as I get used to it, appreciate it, and need to remind myself that whatever I'm afraid of is not going to be that bad.










 

A Gift of Time and Space

One of the greatest gifts of being a teacher is a snow day--and not just because I get to sleep late.  I love the gift of time and space that a snow day brings. 

Instead of seeing the inconvenience of needing to get groceries in the crowds and then being trapped at my house, I appreciate the open space the storm creates.  In a storm, especially one predicted to be as nasty as the one currently blanketing much of New England, I can't run around and try to do too much--which might be my natural tendency on any other day when I am not at work.  It would be too physically dangerous in the midst of a blizzard.

As I sit here on my sofa, having crossed a few tasks off each to-do list I have, but also having watched a show that has been sitting on my DVR and having stared out the window a bit and having talked to my mom, and having given the dog a good scratch--none of which I would have planned to do if I had known I was going to have all these hours of time I didn't expect to have--I am appreciating the sense of space I suddenly feel. Why is it so hard to find this without the storm?  Why do I have to be surprised into keeping time free?

Here's what usually gets in my way: I find it so easy to get caught up in all the things I want to get done--or need to get done--and I plan (or overplan) any "open" space until it's no longer space.  When I have time "free" on the weekend--I plan brunch with friends, I schedule a hair cut, I go food shopping.  That is not the kind of free time I need more of.  What I want is time when I don't have a plan or the pressure to move through any checklist.  I want the freedom to decide what to do based on what I want to do right now--not on the plan.  Yesterday afternoon, I came home from work knowing school was cancelled today.  I ditched my plan to go run at the gym--because I knew I could fit it in today if I needed to.  I came home and cooked.  I just felt like hunkering down and doing some baking--so I did. 

There is something freeing about this gift of time--I can't waste it because I didn't have anything planned.  Even if I sat down and stared into space for a few hours, that's not a waste of this time I didn't think I would ever have. All of this has me thinking about how much pressure it creates to plan every spare minute or even to keep a running list of things to do if I get a spare minute.  Sometimes it pays to ditch the to-do lists and just do what I want, right now.  Thank you mother nature for this reminder.

Paying More Balanced Attention

Have you ever noticed that when things aren't going our away or something is troublesome, we are more motivated to act? We tend to up the frequency and intensity of our communication for example.

Recently I experienced this as part of a mix up with my bank.  I won't bore you with all the details but up to a certain point, they weren't worried about getting my money--and their communication was sparse.  My communication with them was also limited.  I mailed them a check once a month.  Now, at a certain point, they got worried about getting my money and they kicked it into high gear.  Before I even got the letter from them notifying me of any problem, I started getting phone calls.  I will admit, I was slow to return them--because I didn't feel any urgency.  I suspected they were trying to get me to open a credit card or to refinance.  I got a letter about the issue and then I started calling them--every day.  Now I was alarmed.  Then they sent me several big packages overnight of 50+ page documents reminding me of my legal commitment to pay and all the terrible things that would happen if I didn't, as well as telling me who to call if I needed assistance with a payment plan.  We resolved the issue and almost 3 weeks later, they are still calling to get my money, the communication that everything is fine, not having traveled nearly as fast internally at this large bank as the news that there might be a problem did.

That experience is just one of many I can cite.  A project didn't go well at work today and I found myself and several of the other people involved sending email after email--working to sort out details and suggest improvements and try to set ourselves up for things to work better tomorrow. Maybe you can think of some examples from your own experience--the times you were upset about something--or some compilation of somethings--and suddenly talking to, emailing or texting a friend, a co-worker, a sibling, a significant other to talk about what was going on felt pressing.  You kept at them until they agreed to talk--or maybe you didn't even give them a chance to avoid it and the next time you saw them after you figured it all out in your head, you launched right into the "conversation" you wanted to have.  Maybe you texted them message after message or sent a long email detailing the problem and how it made you feel.  Let me guess: you didn't get the results you wanted.

We do this to ourselves as well.  We skip right over the good in what we have done or in our lives and focus right on the one thing we wish were different. I was talking with a colleague recently and she was showing me the things she has been working on in her curriculum.  She glossed over what she liked about it and all the work she had clearly put into it and drew us right to the one question that was still troubling her, the thing that she hadn't been able to figure out to her satisfaction.

Communicating from this place of what's wrong moves everything to high alert, and it pre-establishes a crisis. "I feel a sense of urgency--and now we have a problem--and things are bad." When I start a conversation from this place--with myself or another person--it tends to go downhill.  My sense of "we have a problem" translates to the other person who responds either defensively or by expanding the problem.  When I do this to myself, I am so narrowly focused that my view becomes limited.  One of my yoga teachers often says, "What you focus on is what you get."  Focusing on what's not working then seems like a limited tool.  It makes what I don't like clear but it provides no clue as to what's better because it ignores what's working.

Here's what I am wondering: in a relationship I have where the communication is crisis oriented and points to what's wrong,  what would shift if I started having conversations that pointed to what's right too?  I am not sure I will try this with my bank, but I've been experimenting with this with my co-workers, my family members and even myself.  It might not change that sometimes I notice or want to talk about something that is a problem, but it means that the landscape of those conversations, when they happen, is different.  My lens is broader, the history of conversation or thoughts more round, the talk about "the problem" balanced out by all the positives.  It can be so easy to let the positive slide by unmentioned.  We let what's good lack urgency--I know I do. If we do that, while also letting anything that troubles us become urgent, we get exactly what we created. 

Revolutions—and Revelations

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Years ago, in the car on New Year’s Day, driving from Cape Cod to Boston, a friend turned to me and said, “Beck, any good revolutions for the year?”  We laughed about her word substitution, but the truth is that I much prefer the idea of taking time at the start of the year to start revolutions than to make resolutions.  Let me explain.

For starters, revolutions are personal, unique.  Back when I made resolutions, they were things like, “Lose 10 pounds,” or “go to the gym 4 times a week.”  If shared with a colleague or friend, it was not uncommon to hear, “Me too.” People don’t say that about revolutions such as, “Live a healthier life,” or “Take ownership of my finances,” and though someone else might want that, the reason for it and the path there will be theirs alone, just as mine will be mine alone.

Resolutions can be chosen somewhat casually—not that they always are, but it’s possible.  Revolutions take some reflection—they require thinking about what is working and what isn’t working in my life.  They require that I look back on my experiences and decide what I want more of, what I need and want to commit to, and what I have to say no to.  This all helps me to invest in the bigger nature of my revolutions. For this reason alone, I take the pressure off to have my revolutions all set for January 1.  I like to give myself a deadline in January but it’s never the first.  

Revolutions are about what matters to me; resolutions often point to some obligation I feel—a should.  I could make a resolution to learn to play golf, but if I only do that because my boss plays golf and I think playing golf with him will help my career even though I have no interest in golfing, that isn’t likely to last because it doesn’t really matter to me.  If I decide my revolution is to develop a hobby like golf so that I can enjoy my leisure time and feel it’s more meaningful.  When I do what I want (as opposed to what I think I should do or feel like I have to do) that adds value to my life.

What, you already made some resolutions? Well, look them over and spend some time reflecting.  What really matters to you about saving that money? About joining the gym? About not biting your nails?  Take your resolutions and amp them up.   Be about owning your financial life, be about living healthy, be about reducing stress and anxiety.  At the end of 2013, be able to celebrate something more revolutionary than that your pants are a new size, or that your bank account is bigger, or your nails are longer even if they are!