(Part 1 in a series of potentially infinite posts.)
I’ve been thinking more about strengths and how the ones we end up cultivating have so much to do with how we’re socialized and wanting to fit in. And also, I’m getting sick of the term strengths; it sounds all sterile and externally determined. And that, as I’ve been ranting, is part of the problem.
So let’s call them qualities. Or elements of your suchness.
(Ever since I read about suchness from Thich Nhat Hanh, I’ve never been able to come up with a better way to express the nature of someone or something. The you-ness of you. Your suchness.)
Then there’s the other side of things; We develop the qualities we’re praised for, and squash the less desirable bits. Sweep them under the rug or add a teaspoon of honey to sweeten things up. Or I did.
The bits of mine that underwent some sweetening? I am apparently somewhat stuck up. Or so I’ve been told. Also, there was that phase in the 90’s where the proper lingo was “too good.” Briana’s too good for us. I heard that all the freaking time. Blech.
Or at least I used to be stuck up. Because, as any self-respecting, people-pleasing perfectionist would, I methodically attempted a dramatic reconfiguration of my very suchness. I tried to polish the rough parts and mold myself into the grooves. And, you know, be really nice. To everyone. I have to say, it was kinda exhausting.
And the truth, the part that actually pisses me off confuses me, is that I am nice. I care about people, I’m empathic and compassionate, welcoming and warm. I freaking help people for a living.
But caring about people doesn’t mean I have to let everyone in. One of my best friends refers to her own suchness as The Six Miles, as if your access to really knowing her lovely soul could be measured in distance.
I’m finally growing up and realizing that boundaries are okay. That we’re all allowed our own version of The Six Miles. I’m not stuck up just because most of my adolescent acquaintences didn’t make it past the first mile. I get to decide who belongs in the second mile and who gets to hang out in the sixth. And incredibly, knowing who belongs where is actually one of my greatest qualities.
It means my relationships are deep and strong and true. It means I regularly experience swells of gratitude that the people I adore love me back. And it means that if I adore you, you will know it.
I think being misunderstood is the worst. Unwinding the layers = soooo helpful. And there’s a lot of stuff here for me. Sometime soon I’ll write about my Extreme Makeover, The Sweetness Edition.
Any fellow snobs out there? Or is there another word people use to describe you that makes your suchness shout No No No?
I’ve been obsessing thinking more about this check-y-loo habit. I’d love to bump creative time earlier and push checking e-mail and stuff later into the day. (Later than the second my eyes pop open.)
And I’m trying to be patient with myself. (Ow.) And curious.
The end of my corporate career was bad. Bad like Sunday night blues that start early Saturday afternoon. Bad like epic anxiety with occasional panic and tearful frustration thrown in for kicks.
Looking back now, I think it probably needed to get that bad in order for me to walk away. For a million reasons. Because change is scary. Because I was “successful”. Because I had a very specific, technical advanced degree only applicable to this one field. Because I was making a lot of money.
Because I didn’t really have a clear idea what I’d do next. Yeah, there was that.
At the end I was letting projects slip and letting people down. Including myself. Bleargh. But I couldn’t be bothered to do anything about the slipping and slacking. I was too busy panicking.
A pattern is born.
I used my Blackberry for an alarm clock. Cozy, right? Every morning my alarm would ring and before I brushed my teeth or wiped the sleep from eyes, I’d check my e-mail.
Really, I was checking to see exactly how awful the day ahead promised to be. I was checking to see if some partner was mad, waiting on me for something, or annoyed that I hadn’t gotten back to them.
I never checked my e-mail and then felt happy or grounded. Today’s going to be just fantastic! Pffft.
Even when my inbox was free of bombs, I didn’t feel any relief. Just a sense of borrowed time. If it wasn’t e-mail, it would be the ominous red light indicating voicemail. Or a file on my chair.
All just a bunch of symbols. Tell me inbox: How should I feel today? How will my day go?
And here we are.
Wouldn’t you know, the pattern stuck. Because it’s been more than a year, and I still want to check in with the outside world first thing in the morning.
And now, even though my inbox is a pretty jovial place, I sometimes find myself checking with a twinge of apprehension. Like there might be a shoe or a request I don’t want to honor. Or I really don’t know what. Something. Something that could wreck me with the anxiety of the old days.
And these days, my e-mail is more like a festival of fun. Whee! Notes from friends! Client appointments! Thoughtful blog comments! (Oh, love those!) But it doesn’t really matter what the content is. I still don’t like this impulse of first looking out there to see how I should feel in here.
Curious. And experimenting.
For me, just noticing what’s underneath this impulse is huge. And I think I could start a series on these former-career-related heebie-jeebie patterns and habits that are still lurking. Maybe I will.
Anyway, I’m curious… Anyone else have these lurker patterns? Or thoughts for unwinding them?
Here’s what happened this morning: I drank my coffee and wrote a page in my journal, which goes something like: fjwiefjoweijfwijfwhgw. And also, oweijfoweijfwei. Incoherent. Just as it should be.
And this morning, as is the case when I’m lucky, the owerowjfkwfwwe gave me a bunch of ideas for other stuff I’m excited to write about. So I opened my computer eager to write about all of that.
Except.
That adorable Mail icon dinged. And I couldn’t ignore the sexy little red announcement. Impossible!
So I thought, I’ll just check my e-mail really fast and then: Onward with the writing! But. There was an interesting e-mail message in there. Another coach asked a question that was relevant to something I’m working on. So I got all hyper and fired off an excitable response! An exclaimey one!!!
And I got hooked.
The e-mail was serendipitously related to the thing I wanted to write about this morning. And serendipity = cool! But it would have been much cooler if I’d done the writing I wanted to do first.
Because then I would have had actual insight to share, instead of the more frantic: Oh oh, me too!
So my attention got all scattered and focused somewhere ‘out there’. And I figured, Hey, I may as well check in everywhere else, right? Check it all! Head spinning with check, check, check! Aaaaaa!
And spewed out the other side.
Now I’m too hyper to write about what really needs writing about: The juicy stuff that floated into view when I was connected and reflective earlier this morning. Nope, I’m writing about this instead.
And I guess I can be a tiny bit grateful that I’m writing about anything at all. It could be worse: I could still be off maniacally looping through the online madness. So I am grateful for whatever pause compelled me to look away from all of the glitter and check back in with myself.
But instead of processing the stuff that felt important to me this morning, I’m processing this. Again.
The bright spot.
Things are shifting. I know it doesn’t sound like it. (At all.) But this loop was shorter. I’m aware and I’m picking up clues. So fair warning to my “Let’s Check Stuff!” pattern: Your days are numbered.
The sticky note goes back on my computer: Want to check something? Check yourself. Write first.
(And also, note to self: Remember to log out of Mail every night. Actually, re-remember.)
Thoughts or ideas? What helps you stay grounded enough to focus on the good stuff? So curious.
Okay, fine, it is talking to a wall. I had my first dialogue with one. An inner wall. I think our talk went surprisingly well. My wall was about as unyielding and imposing as you’d expect. And still, I think we somehow managed to come out of our chat on the same side. My side.
I was feeling epically stuck last week, paralyzed with indecision. I’m wanting to take the next steps in the creation and biggification of my business. But- But- But. It felt like I was standing with my nose two inches from a very high, very concrete wall. I kept thinking and saying: I’m just so blocked.
And also: It’s like there’s a wall. After referring to this wall for the hundredth time, it finally dawned on me to actually respect its visceral wall-ish-ness. And so I tried to have a conversation with it.
Tête-à-wall.
Me: Okay Wall, I think you must be doing your job. Well, at least you’re blocking my view. Which is one of the things walls do. But you tell me, what exactly are you trying to do?
Wall: I’m trying to keep you from getting too excited.
Me: Hmmm. Okay. Why don’t you want me to be excited?
Wall: I don’t think you’re ready.
Me: Well I want to be ready. Even though I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m curious, is there anything I could do to be getting ready? I can’t tell, because you’re blocking my view.
Wall: You don’t have the right idea yet. You can’t create or grow anything until you hit the right idea.
Me: So you’re trying to help me from acting on the wrong idea? But I can’t come up with any new ones because you’re in my way. What do you think about letting me see some ideas without acting?
Wall: The idea needs to be big and different. Which means you’ll get way too excited. And act.
Me: So you won’t let me act because I don’t have the right idea, but you won’t let me see any big, fresh ideas because you’re afraid I’ll get carried away and take action. Well that’s perfectly illogical of you. And it means I’ll never get anywhere. And I’m not cool with that. Can we compromise?
It sounds like you don’t want me to get swept away. So how about you let me into the idea garden, and I promise to spend lots of time with all of the ideas. I won’t run off with any of them. And I’ll get feedback from really smart people that we both like before I do anything. Then will you let me see?
Wall: Do you want to use the secret passage?
Um, yeah.
Yeah, I do want to use the secret passage, thank you very much. My wall is kinda cool like that. I’m not sure why this works, but I think it’s about operating under the assumption that my wall was doing its job. Believing that my wall had a purpose. Instead of just kicking it and hurting myself.
And I’m noticing that I feel unusually compelled to follow through on my end of our agreement: To spend time playing with the ideas that come, and to only share them with the right people.
And even though it sounds almost too good to be true, I’m catching fresh glimpses of ideas. I can see again. It feels a little like I’ve reconnected with the right hemisphere of my brain. Phew!
I do this thing where I resist structure because I should be disciplined enough to just do what I need to do without extra support or boundaries. That stuff is for wimps, right? Also, restriction scares me.
Just do it.
Sometimes I get spun out with online distractions and time wasters. I find myself on this crazed loop of checking e-mail, checking Twitter, checking forums, checking my reader. I know! Let’s check stuff!
And so I’ve toyed with the idea of trying a software program that forces helps you focus by blocking out distractions. But then, that’s just silly because I should be able to focus on my own, right?
I’m starting to think there are two ways to look at this kind of help.
Needing help = weakness + lack of self control + time to crack the whip
I have plenty of experience with using structure as a way to tame my wild tendencies and whip myself into shape. Yuck. Who wants that? And I spent enough years exploring the self-mastery route that I can recognize my inner dictator… even when she dresses up in a Let’s Be Productive cape.
If I go that route, it won’t be long before Miss Productivity gets bored or tired. At which point the wild child will take over and yank us along on a frenzied four hour tour of every link on Twitter.
(Yes, there must be some needs I’m trying to meet by check-check-checking my way through this maddening loop. But so far the conversation about exploring better ways to meet those needs only exists in my head. More on this later.)
So if self-mastery backfires and willpower just isn’t enough, what else can I do?
Wanting help = support + safety + taking care of myself
Okay, needing help because I’ve decided I suck… well, sucks. But I’m discovering that I am perfectly allowed to want help. Totally different thing. Consciously asking for help has everything to do with the way I frame the goal, and the way I see myself. I can choose to create support and safety.
Consider the goal. (And while you’re at it, come up for a non-triggery word for goal.)
When it comes to hanging out online, I want less bobbing around aimlessly (and the subsequent blurry-eyed hangover) and more experiences like this. Less energy drain, more connection.
When I believe I need structure because otherwise I can’t be trusted to do the things that are good for me, I feel totally dispirited. (God, we’ve worked on this. Why can’t you just be perfect already?)
But consciously creating a system of support that helps me do the things I already want to do? Yay!
Here goes.
Time to play with creating some containers for these activities. And experimenting with gentle accountability and productivity tools. Thoughts about this stuff? Ideas? What works for you?
I know, I know, you totally saw it coming.
Last week, I dreamt that a little girl was dangling from a cliff. And that her life was in my hands.
Lately I have been working with this shadowey fear of getting into trouble. Or doing things wrong. Completely blind to the connection, I jotted down this Shiva Nata intention that morning:
Drop this little-girl-in-trouble gig already.
After Dance of Shiva I have a flash.
There’s a picture of me at about 2 1/2 looking incredibly sweet and scared with a certain doe-eyed vulnerability. I’m wearing lavender corduroy overalls and a turtleneck with a small print of kittens.
And the terror in my eyes is palpable. It makes me want to scoop little-girl-me up, and reassure her that, yes, we will always hate having our picture taken, And then take her out for an ice cream cone.
(Wait. If this is my time-travel fantasy, let’s choose a slightly more innocuous comfort. She’s going to have plenty of food and body struggles to contend with on her own without my little Back to the Future whirlydo screwing things up even further.)
Flash, take two.
There’s another photo of me at twenty standing in front of a painting at the Marc Chagall museum in Nice. Photography was forbidden in the museum, but my friend insisted on taking the photo. So I was nervous and uncomfortable and fully expecting to get in trouble. And when we get home and get our pictures back, I’m startled because I still have those wide, vulnerable, little girl eyes.
Confused?
Yeah. Me, too. I don’t really get the connection yet. But this fear of getting in trouble? It’s not a grown-up sense of trouble. It’s small and tender and childish. I’m ready to let it go. To let her go.
If you were looking for an epiphany tied up in a pretty bow, this is the part where I leave the audience completely unsatisfied with the movie’s ending. But I intend to keep working the scene.
My secret weapon.
Analyzing my own dreams is difficult. My left brain commandeers the process. (Shocking!) Which is why I’m scootching myself over for a dream investigation session with my favorite dreamweaver.
(Note: I’m on Eileen’s crazy super secret list so I kind of have a backstage pass. Word on the beat, though, is that she’s opening the doors for a few dream investigation clients soon. If you have vivid or recurring dreams or are looking to dance with your unconscious, I’d either beg her to get you on the list or start neurotically checking her site for the dream offering.)
Comments?
Any thoughts on dream analysis in general? Just a little note: I’m not into the idea that every symbol in every dream means the same thing for every person. So I would *love* to hear your experiences, but please no diagnostic theories on this particular dream.
I had a scary, vivid dream the other night and I’m really excited about it. Huh? I know, that sounds weird. But the more I learn about dreams, the more I’m intrigued by their transformative and healing nature. Also, any dreams sparked by my Dance of Shiva practice are unequivocally welcome.
I first learned about this inherent dreamtime power from my teacher, Martha Beck, who says:
The more respect you give your night dreams, the sooner they will become day dreams: ideas for new adventures, enterprises, and life strategies you may never have thought up while physically awake.
Your psyche is offering up clues about big stuff, and possibly even some hints about what you really want and what might be keeping you stuck. And the most comforting thing I’ve learned in my dream analysis training is that the scariest parts are really meant to help you.
Nothing in your dream, nothing you do or say or feel or think, says anything bad about you. Which makes looking at them much easier, yes?
Even better.
Dreams are meant to help you re-integrate good bits of your personality that you’ve inadvertently rejected. Meaning you get to start liking elements of yourself that you’ve been unconsciously ignoring. I don’t have time to prove all of this today so you’ll just have to take my word for it.
(Wouldn’t it be cool if I could say stuff like that and get away with it? I think so. No, but really, if you want more background I’d start with the Soul Sleuthing dream investigation series. And then if you want to go deeper, there’s always the collected works of C.G. Jung. *Swoon*. Brain crush.)
The dream.
There was a little girl dangling from a cliff. And the only thing keeping her from falling was my foot. At first I wanted to help her, but no one would help me help her. And so eventually I just wanted to let her fall so that I could finish my marathon. (Apparently in the dreamtime I am quite the athlete.)
Sometimes you get a hunch that a dream is important. This is one of those times. There is a message in this dream, and the message is not: God, you are selfish. Save the little girl you heartless witch!
The connection.
But I didn’t even come close to understanding the significance of the message until I wrote an intention for my Dance of Shiva practice that morning. See, I’ve been noticing that I have this annoying fear of getting into trouble. And without seeing any connection at all, I wrote:
Shiva Nata intention: Letting go of this little-girl-in-trouble gig.
Hmmm.
An epiphany is percolating. More on that next time. Thoughts on dream analysis in general? Are you into this kind of thing? Do you have vivid dreams? If you’re a Shivanaut, does it affect your dreams?
So awhile ago I decided to try this thing where I’d pick something that was bugging me to pay attention to for the week. Maybe a pattern of something I was doing, or not doing. Or something I was avoiding. Or something that was triggering some icky feeling. Something generally sucky.
And then without really giving it much of a chance, I decided it was really a terribly stupid idea. I haven’t told you about that part yet… the deciding it was totally stupid part.
But now I’m waffling again (surprise!): I think the idea just needs some polishing.
It wasn’t working because…
I’d notice a pattern and say: Hey You! You’re the one I’m going to watch this week. And then it would sneak off and hide under the covers. All week. And my whole intention would just fall splat.
Except for some reason the practice was still really useful. (Not the practice of paying attention, which I couldn’t do because the pattern was hiding from me.) But the practice of noticing and naming. Which is just as important, and also sometimes the hardest part. Because if there’s something that’s feeling stuck, it can be really scary to look at your stuff to find out why.
You are good.
If you’re afraid that you’ll discover some dark, evil thing about yourself, you won’t want to take the lid off the pot. But you won’t discover something grim.
The shadowey thing that seems so scary before you look? It’s a part of you needing attention or acknowledgement or something. And you can’t find out what the something is if you avoid it.
And every time you’re willing to look and you realize that, phew!, the thing you thought was so horrible about yourself really has some nugget of good, it’s easier to peer into the pot next time. (And bonus: You get to maybe stop hating on yourself a tiny bit, too.)
Because noticing and naming a pattern helps you to see your stuff as not you. So you can be aware of its existence, and even be in it sometimes, without it meaning anything bad about you.
Examples?
Oh sure. How about the time I was all grossed out by myself for wishing I was cooler? And then I realized that ohmygosh, I don’t need to be cool. Holy relief.
Or all the times I freaked out at myself for wanting to eat too many M&M’s. I thought it meant I was insatiable, or something equally loathe-worthy. When really I was just needing some exhilaration.
Onward bound.
And so I’m keeping up with the ritual. But not in a Hey Pattern! I’m watching you! kind of way. Just in a sly, slide-into-a-barstool-and-scootch-up-to-the-counter-next-to-it kind of way.
Just saying: Hi. I know you exist. I see you. But I’m not you and you’re not me. Like collecting puzzle pieces and dropping them into a basket. And we’re not the puzzle. We are the puzzle master.
Does this ever happen to you… where you want to pay attention to something and then it hides? Or where just noticing helps you be just a tiny bit more objective (and less harsh) with your stuff?
I’m sitting alone on my patio this morning eating breakfast. And behind my house there’s a canyon, but before you get to the canyon there’s a hill and the hill is landscaped.
Because either:
a. This is Southern California and so we need to manicure everything to within an inch of its life; or
b. This is Southern California fire territory and so landscaping is keeping me safe from fire and mudslides.
Whatever. Not really the point. You don’t need to know that part except I feel the need to acknowledge: Landscaping a natural canyon? Yeah, weird.
The point.
While I’m sitting out here eating breakfast, there are some workers on the hill doing… you know, landscaping stuff. And while they’re working they’re singing in Spanish. One will start and then another will pick up the tune. And then it might turn into a whistle or a rowdy Ay! Ay! Ay!
And it’s just so beautiful that I stop breathing for a minute. Immediately, I wish my mom were here because she loves Spanish. And because she would appreciate how endearing this moment is to me.
And then I just wish anyone were here so I could say: Stop. Look at that. Listen. Isn’t it amazing?
I want someone to share that little moment of surprise and awe and joy with me. Because sharing it will intensify my delight and I’ll have a witness to this simple, sweet experience.
Ten years ago.
I have this vivid memory of an afternoon in college. I was driving to work and I pulled up behind a van full of special needs kids. In the very back row were two boys with Down Syndrome. And they were singing and laughing and car dancing their hearts out. I almost couldn’t stand it. So of course I immediately whipped out my cell phone to call my roommate and she giggled and swooned with me.
Today.
(Note: End of story if you’re not on Twitter. But you should totally come hang out on Twitter.)
And so I think: I’m going to tweet this. Because there are a few hundred people I can tell right now. Maybe one of them will understand. Or I’ll just be heard. My experience right here in this moment will be a thing. It will have a container and it will mean something more because of the connection.
And because there’s something real and true and soulful in telling someone:
Hey! Stop and look at this thing with me. This moment is important to me.
There is something in me noticing this moment that is part of who I am. In showing you what tugs at my heart I am showing you me. This is me.
And in fact, this morning on Twitter someone lovely did hear me. And she shared my moment. And I just felt this delicious little frisson of connection.
There are so many Big Important Sterile Reasons to use “social media”. This is the real deal. For me.
(Also, my twitter friend and I are totally starting a Sing-While-We-Work movement. Wanna join?)
Our important, intrinsic, rock-star-worthy stuff isn’t always the stuff about us that Other People value. And this is kind of a big deal. It’s one of those difference makers between a super-happy-thriving life versus a mediocre, successful-on-someone-else’s-terms existence.
But you have to believe that you get to decide which elements of your fabulosity that you cultivate. (And hear this: You’ve got plenty to choose from.)
Remember that fateful ropes course?
Well that evening at dinner, we were all talking about our Kolbe Index. (Yep, discussing “conative action style” is just one of the many ways we coaches geek out together.) Anyway, my score is basically even, which is apparently really rare and somehow makes me the perfect employee.
And my teacher mentioned that the word amongst employers is this: If you ever run across someone with an even Kolbe, do not ask any further questions, just hire the person on the spot.
And I got all defiant. (In my head, of course. Wouldn’t want to make any waves or anything.)
Oh, so I’m the perfect employee, huh? Because why? Because I play well with others, follow directions, color inside the lines?
Yeah. Whoa.
And then today Seth Godin summed up part of my frustration brilliantly. (Redundant, yes.)
Creativity is hard. Sure, the bursts of insight tingle. And the glee at expressing the truth that you didn’t even know you knew until you actually expressed it… bliss. Nothing beats dancing with the muse when things are just buzzing and skipping and flowing and jiving. But those delicious, zinging bursts are the reward for the much less exciting business of tinkering and toiling with your craft.
And that creativity requires curiosity. And patience. And when you’re really, really excitably curious it can be really, really hard to be patient. And frustrating. And brain-scrambling.
Oh and the Seth part: We don’t nurture creativity in kids (or employees). Because it’s easier for us if they just… well… play well with others, follow directions, color inside the lines.
And just to be clear, this isn’t me whining that some big, mean grown-up squelched my childlike curiosity. I am ridiculously curious. Sometimes annoyingly so. This is just me figuring out what that defiance was all about.
And realizing I need to spend some time exploring how to be my own best employee. And, erm, boss. Because sometimes the boss living inside my head is a wee bit harsh. And then I become the big, mean grown-up squelching any childlike curiosity. The curiosity that compels me to create.
Do you ever wish you weren’t so agreeable or employable? So good at playing the game? Or do you have any ideas for getting all rowdy and coloring outside the lines?
