“Discomfort is the price of admission to a meaningful life.”
~ Susan David
Word Of The Day: ALIVE 2.0
ALIVE
While alive can mean simply not being dead, when it comes to crafting a meaningful life, that’s not saying much. Lungs can continue to fill and hearts can go on beating long after a soul has moved on to wherever souls move on. In the same way, we can continue existing on the planet without truly being alive.
To be alive is to be alert to the all that life brings our way. It isn’t always easy or comfortable, but then I don’t think it is meant to be. To be alive is to actively engage with the truth, no matter how painful, scary, or inconvenient. We can even feel at our most alive when we have survived a challenge we weren’t sure we could manage—like crossing the finish line of a marathon, after a last chemo treatment, holding our newborn after hours of labor, or finally confronting our hidden fears and wounds for the first time.
To be alive is to be aware. It is to be interested in the world around us, and to continue to expand and grow even as our bodies diminish. To be alive means to follow the breadcrumb trail of our curiosity over the next rise in the trail, and the next and the next and the next. To be alive is to never cease exploring, wondering, and searching.
To be alive is to be teeming with whatever it is that enlivens us to the point that we can’t contain it. It is to be filled to overflowing with the certainty that our lives matter, despite any evidence to the contrary. So certain that we can’t help but show up for our life and say yes to its invitation. Over, and over, and over, until it’s all over.
(If you are just joining me now on the trail that is 2020, and the list of words that will travel with me to inspire and inform my steps, you can check out earlier posts on this topic below.)
Not So Quick
Speed of progress is often the measure by which we gauge success. How quickly can we accomplish, produce, create, finish, or achieve the desired results? While there’s no disputing that sometimes things need to be done quickly, it isn’t always the best measure of success in the grand scheme of things. An equally valuable indication, if not more so in many cases, is continued movement in the right direction. Whether talking about building a better relationship, writing a book, building a career, or crafting a meaningful life, steady progress creates the traction necessary to succeed in any endeavor that matters.
In a world that seems to value quickness over quality it can be hard to take the long view. But then again, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Photo by khalid ait sayh from Pexels
The Horse We Rode In On
We all have them. Decisions we wish we could revisit and choose another course. Words we’ve said in the heat of the moment, but are unable to take back. Relationships we started that turned out to be dead ends, and ones we ended too soon, missing out on the life to be found there. Times when we let fear hold us back, and others when we allowed our pride to push us ahead before we were ready. Some years feel like a total waste, as we lingered in our shame, fear, and disappointment. And then, there are those times when we made what can only be called terrible mistakes. Errors in judgement that cost us, and those we love great harm. Every experience up until now has made us who we are today, and we’ve all arrived to our present moment on the backs of our stories. All of them.
Looking back over my life, I have very few regrets. In fact, there’s really only one, and it cost me a lot. When I was in college, I had a conversation with my dad that changed the course of my history, and if I could have one do-over, it would be that one phone call. I allowed his patriarchal view of women and the world to color my own. Instead of speaking up and applying for graduate school, I stayed quiet and took a job to pay the bills. In listening to his, I silenced my own voice, and rather than owning my intelligence and strength, I turned them out to pasture. It took me a long time to find my way back to myself and take the reins into my own hands.
Slowly but surely I put a period on the end of that story, which was the only way I could begin to write a new one. It would have been easy to allow that many year detour to define me for the rest of my life, and there are still times, if I’m honest, that I indulge myself by replaying the shoulda-coulda-woulda song, but those times are short lived, and few and far between. It was that detour that led me to the work I have today. It is because of that experience that I am passionate about helping others step more fully into their own lives, access and trust their inner wisdom, and bring all they have to offer, in whatever form, to a world waiting for what they have to give.
Every choice and chapter will always be a part of our story, but they don’t have to define us forever. The only way they can is if we let them. In my better moments, I am even able to thank my dad for helping me to find an unconventional trail to wholeness, meaning, and purpose. Because that is that story that now defines my life.
Working For Hope
“Don’t wait for good things to happen to you. If you go out and make some good things happen, you will fill the world with hope, you will fill yourself with hope.”
~ Barack Obama
Hope is not static.
It is a noun that names a state of expectancy and anticipation, and, it is a verb that describes an active expectation and anticipation for a treasured outcome. Hope is a two-step process.
Step one is gaining clarity on a treasured outcome. The more clear the desired outcome, the stronger the state of expectancy and anticipation as we wait for our hopes to be fulfilled.
Do you want to write a book? Create a more fulfilling life? Stand on a stage and move an audience? Make a ton of money? Help heal the earth? Climb a mountain?
Step one only gets us so far.
Step two is doing something about attaining what we hope for.
Books get written by those who write. A fulfilling life might mean letting go of what and who no longer fit, in order to fit in what and who just might. The stage door opens for those with a compelling message. People will pay big money for what they deem valuable. The smallest right actions helps to restore the planet. Summiting a mountain starts with summiting a hill.
Sometimes hope looks like waiting and working your ass off all at the same time.
Committed
Later this week I will have the privilege of facilitating a day-long meeting in Nashville, TN for a group of educators, all dedicated to advocating for and advancing STEM Education (Science-Technology-Engineering-Math) for Girls.
The core purpose of the meeting is Reinforcing Our Unbreakable Commitment to GIRLS in STEM Education. It is my honor to step in and help in this effort, and I can’t think of a better way to spend a day.
Ever since my dear friend and colleague Dr. Barbara Bell engaged me for this meeting, I have been captivated by the language she chose to clarify the purpose for the day. Reinforcing Our Unbreakable Commitment… While theirs is a commitment to girls in STEM Education, the idea of an unbreakable commitment is worthy of anyone’s consideration.
What is my Unbreakable Commitment?
As I ponder this question, on a plane bound for Nashville, here is my answer:
I have an unbreakable commttment to the following core beliefs:
~ We are all created in the image of God
~ We are all called to live our most authentic, whole-hearted lives.
~ We are all called to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.
How will I Reinforce My Unbreakable Commitment?
I am fiercely determined to live in a way that those core beliefs are evident to others. These beliefs need to be more than good words, because talk is cheap. They need to run through my veins, energize my actions, and inform my choices. While I’m pretty sure I’ll never get it perfect, I’ll never stop working to get it better.
I’ve shared these core beliefs before, and will continue to do so going forward. Not because I need to spread them far and wide, but because I need to stay close to them myself. When we give voice to what we believe, we are compelled to live those beliefs out loud.
What is Your Unbreakable Commitment?
How will you Reinforce Your Unbreakable Commitment?
Onward.
Upward.
Together.
The Arcs of Our Histories
“I do not pretend to understand the moral universe. The arc is a long one. My eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by experience of sight. I can divine it by conscience. And from what I see I am sure it bends toward justice.”
Theodore Parker (Unitarian Minister and abolitionist. This quote is an excerpt from a sermon he delivered in 1853.)
My husband Tom and I arrived last night at the home of our dear friend, Birthe, in Lindum, a village in Denmark that dates back 2500 years. The family home, which was built in the 1800s, sits across the street from the village blacksmith shop, and in the shadow of the village church that was constructed in 12th century.
Next to the house, and behind the church, is the village cemetery.
From her kitchen window, our friend is able to see the stone, found in her garden, that marks the grave of her husband, Niels, also Tom’s host brother when he was here in 1965 as a high school foreign exchange student.
We slept upstairs in one of the many bedrooms in this house that has been home to the same family for five generations.
Before a new day dawned, the small house next door burned down.
As we sit over coffee this morning, smoke still hanging in the air from the fire, and the church bells ringing in a new day, as they have every morning for generations, I can’t help but be struck by both the shortness of a life span, and the long arc of the history of this place.
The tension between the two is worthy of our consideration.
Towards what do the long arcs of our own short histories bend?
Written with gratitude to Birthe, and in memory of Niels.
Friend or Foe? Part II: Taking a Closer Look.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
The Prayer of St. Francis
Since posting Friend or Foe? yesterday, I've received multiple comments from readers about the timeliness of the message, how hard it is, given the state of our world, to choose to see the universe as fundamentally friendly, and, how much we need to be reminded of this most important choice. I agree whole-heartedly with their comments. That's why I wrote it in the first place. I won't speak for other writers, but I usually write about what I most need to hear.
As I was putting the finishing touches on yesterday's blog, I wanted to crop the photo of St. Francis of Assisi so that very little of the mountain was left in the picture. Why? If you look up towards the top of the mountain on the right hand side of the picture, you can see a long black line that kind of looks like a fence. Except that it isn't a fence, it's a wall, as in a section of "The Wall" between the United States and Mexico. I didn't want the wall in the picture. It, for me, is a metaphor for a hostile universe if ever there was one. I wanted St. Francis, who with his beautiful prayer is, for me, a metaphor for a friendly universe *He called all creatures his "brothers" and "sisters", preached to the birds, and saw nature as a mirror of God. Hell, he even called his chronic illnesses his "sisters". But try as I might, every time I tried to crop the photo, the editing feature wouldn't work. It. Would. Not. Work. On about my tenth try and with more than a few hostile words for my computer, I got it. The picture depicted the choice between Friend or Foe perfectly. At any given moment we have the opportunity to choose what we believe about the universe in which we live.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about putting on rose colored glasses, a happy face, or turning a blind eye to all of the vicious, unkind, malicious, unsympathetic, venomous, harsh, brutal, inhospitable (all synonyms for "hostile") actions we see, hear, and perhaps personally experience. What I am suggesting, is that underneath it all, the heart that holds the world together beats with love, respect, and the desire for the well-being of all. And just like the picture with the wall that wouldn't be conveniently cropped out, the two views of the world between which we must choose are in stark contrast to one another.
Maybe it has to be stark so that we don't miss it.
Lord, make me and instrument of your peace.
Amen.
PS In case you are wondering, I do believe we need a thoughtful approach to our borders. Thoughtful. Humane, Respectful. Safe. Just. One based on the belief in a friendly universe.
The Thread
For months and months my writing had a clear, specific focus to it, as I worked to complete the manuscript for BLUSH: Women & Wine . Daily, and with purpose, I would head to my desk, sit down, and allow the message to find its way onto the page. Some days the writing was harder than others, yet slowly but surely, the thread that wanted to run from beginning to end began to shimmer and weave the words forward into my long imagined book. The thread, I explained to those who wondered, wasn't about the fact that I had long used my nightly wine ritual as a way to distance myself from pain, stress, and uncomfortable emotions and issues. Nor was it about my commitment to changing an unhealthy pattern. The thread ran, and runs, deeper than understanding and changing a habitual coping mechanism. My thread, the one I have attempted (with varying degrees of success) to hold on to over the years, is made of the these three deeply held strands of belief:
- We are all created in the image of God.
- We are all called to live as authentically and whole-heartedly as we are able.
- We are all here to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.
Anything that gets in the way of our ability to hold onto our thread is deserving of our full attention. Wine was getting in my way. Thankfully, now it isn't.
However.
After the book was published, my thread sort of disappeared. Life became about promoting the book, creating buzz, garnering more attention, and increasing sales.
Not. My. Thread.
In my efforts to promote the book, I forgot about my purpose. When I most needed to remember it, the following piece, written by my good and wise friend David Berry, showed up in my in-box. His words led me back to my thread. My purpose. Which is to help people live authentic, whole-hearted lives, in order that they might better love, help, and heal the world that is within their reach.
I'm feeling the silkiness of the thread in my hand again, and my commitment to hang on to it is renewed. I know it will lead me to the next right steps. As it always does. I'll keep you posted.
Until then, I invite you to pour a glass of your favorite wine, savor David's words, and hang on to your thread.
You Have To Explain About the Thread
“The Way It Is”
There’s a thread you follow. It goes among
things that change. But it doesn’t change.
People wonder about what you are pursuing.
You have to explain about the thread.
But it is hard for others to see.
While you hold it you can’t get lost.
Tragedies happen; people get hurt
or die; and you suffer and get old.
Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding.
You don’t ever let go of the thread.
– William Stafford –
I was captivated this week by the most recent episode of the podcast, This American Life. Specifically, a segment featuring the magicians Penn and Teller describing their process of developing a new trick. Teller, the conspicuously silent partner, has fallen in love with the idea of recreating a classic floating ball and hoop routine. Penn is less enthusiastic, as in not at all. As Teller works and works to make the trick worthy of their show by the standard they have agreed to over 40 years of collaboration he falls short time and again.
A breakthrough comes when they agree that the way to make the trick compelling to both themselves and their audience is to let the audience in on it from the very beginning. The trick begins with Penn’s announcement: “The next trick is done with just a piece of thread.” And off goes Teller, beautifully and brilliantly manipulating a ball with nothing more than a piece of thread.
What Penn and Teller understood and acted upon – after years of work on one specific illusion – is what William Stafford implores us to do in the poem above: “You have to explain about the thread.”
I am often in a position to do exactly that. In the classroom or at a speaking engagement I am frequently asked about my own thread. Why do I do what I do? How did I get started? What are the steps I took from there to here? I always respond in the same way, that I knew exactly what I was supposed to do with my life when I was 17 years old. A bright red thread emerged through my experiences in musical performance and student leadership. I was intuitively aware that the abilities developed and practiced in those early settings were the strengths I would call on throughout my adult life. I held onto the thread through the first few years of college but lost it completely once I had to marry my intuitive sense of it to the harshly practical world of “knowing what you want to do with your life.” I didn’t know how to manifest my nascent understanding of my thread into a next step. And I was too afraid to explain about the thread. I wasn’t willing to say, “This is my thread. I don’t know much about it but I do know a few important things, not least of which is that it’s mine. Will you please help me figure out where it leads?”
Instead, I let it slip away. As it turns out, it did not let go of me. We played peekaboo on occasion, a flirtation here and there, but it took over 10 years and an extraordinary confluence (aka, the thread working hard behind the scenes) of people and events to land me in front of a classroom of aspirational leaders. The specifics of that first class are hazy because my memory is dominated by the aliveness I felt at having my hands on the thread once again.
Most recently, my thread has led me to the college classroom and the opportunity to teach and mentor undergraduate students. The thread has a solid sense of humor. It says, “You struggled to claim me as your own. Others struggle, too. Here is your chance to help a few people struggle a little less, to find the thread a little earlier, and to gain the confidence and declare their commitment to hang on.”
There is no “magic.” There is finding your thread and there is holding onto your thread because “while you hold it you can’t get lost.” There is demonstrating to all who cannot see it that what looks like magic is just your commitment to trust where it will lead. Sometimes, like Teller performing for a full house, we hang on with artistry and elegance. Sometimes, like Teller in the early days of practice, we hang on in spite of our fumbling because our curiosity compels us to learn where it wants to go. And sometimes we don’t hang on at all. But it is there, waiting to dispel the illusion that we can find our way without it.
What is your thread? Where is it leading?
Who have you explained it to? Who have you asked for help?
What makes it hard to hang on?
Is there someone whose thread confuses you?
Will you listen to them explain about the thread?
For further reading, here’s another reflection on “The Way It Is” by Parker Palmer.
DAVID BERRY is the author of “A More Daring Life: Finding Voice at the Crossroads of Change” and the founder of RULE13 Learning. He speaks and writes about the complexity of leading in a changing world.
The Dash That Connects Our Dots
This was first posted on December 5, 2015. In light of the current state of our world, it seems that the dash that connects our dots is more important than ever. Time to connect our dots in ways that heal, restore, touch the world for the good of all. Because we are all in this together.
We have a tradition at our church. After the sermon, called a Reflection by our community (which I think is a totally better name for it), those of us in the pews have a chance to give our two-cents worth, which often is as valuable as the message itself. Recently there was a reflection about the importance of a hyphen, that punctuation mark defined as “the sign that connects two words”. We were challenged to think about the connection and meaning conveyed in that small little mark. Afterwards as a few of us reflected on the Reflection, one person shared that the first thing he thought about was a childhood memory of visiting a nearby cemetery. He would wander through the headstones, most of which gave a birth year, followed by the year of death, connected by not a hyphen, but a dash. To be more specific, it is the En dash, as opposed to the Em dash, that is used to indicate spans or differentiation. (To read more about the dash — https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dash) That dash served to represent all the years between the beginning and end of a life. He commented that those two dates on the headstones were in many ways the least significant, as all of the living of the person buried there was to be found in that tiny dash. Made up of every step, every thought, every word, every pain, every relationship, every breath, every…. everything of that person’s life, the beginning and the ending are but dots on either side of the lifeline that connects the first breath to the last. An entire life is contained in that dash.
It’s all about the dash.
Over the years, I’ve reviewed more than my share of resumes. Potential candidates for hire or promotion list their experience, starting with the most recent, and identified with the starting and end dates of that position. A long expanse of time does not automatically equate to depth of experience or expertise. What did you learn? What did you contribute? How have you grown? Tell me about the dash. Nor does a short experience suggest a lack of lasting impact. During his short time in office, prior to his assassination, John F. Kennedy’s presidency was marked by history making events and issues including the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty, the establishment of the Peace Corps and the Cuban Missile Crisis. Length of experience always counts for something. That something is contained in the dash.
It’s all about the dash.
In the biblical story of creation contained between Genesis verse 1, which was the beginning of it all, and verse 31, when God saw that it was good, a lot happened in the time spanned between the those two verses. From an endless void to a world teeming with life, whether you believe that took seven days or billions of years, that heavenly dash contains a hell of a lot. The story is found in the dash.
It’s all about the dash.
In the past three years we have planned as many weddings for our daughters. The first two were beautiful, the one still in the planning stages will be so as well. A wedding is an important event, and marks a deep commitment being made between two people. The wedding is only the beginning. The marriage is what happens from the moment vows are made to all of the rest of the moments when the vows are kept. Or not. The quality of the life built together by two people isn’t found in an evening of ritual and celebration, no matter how well planned, extravagant or beautiful. A marriage is found in the dash.
It’s all about the dash.
Time is a gift. One of our most valuable resources, it can be sliced and diced in so many ways. Every day is a new choice, a multitude of choices about what will happen in the moments in front of us. Our life is found in our dash, as It is what connects our dots that tell the story of who we are, what we do and how we do it.
I was born October 12, 1953. So far, my dash, which measures about 1/16 of an inch in my favorite font, American Typewriter, contains 63 years, 3 months and 24 days.
Molly Davis
1953 -
It’s all about the dash.
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