Why?

“ Molly, how would you describe the meaning and point of your writing these days?” That wasn’t the exact question my good friend asked me, but close. I wish I could say I had a really succinct, juicy answer then, but I didn’t. And I felt kind of bad about that. Like I should have had an elevator speech kind of answer. Clear. Crisp. Concise. Compelling. I’ve been writing for a long time now, resulting in a book or two, and lots and lots and lots of posts like this, so you’d think I’d have figured it out by now.

However.

I’ve thought about that question a lot, and it has evolved into an even simpler one: Why do I write?

Well, for starters, I’m pretty good at it, and have a nice little award to prove it. I love doing it, and it fills my cup in a way that nothing else does. It is how I make sense of life. Somehow putting words on the page is how I find and express meaning from lived experience. It’s out of my writing that I find myself more equipped to ask better questions, to listen more deeply to others, and to sit with the pain that life inevitably brings my way and the way of those I love.

Writing, then, it would seem is for me more than anyone else. So why do I love hearing back from readers about something I’ve written, and am disappointed when I don’t? Which leads to another question. Would I still write if no one read it? I’m not sure. Another question worth pondering, and I’ll get back to you on that. No pressure, of course, to get back to me…

But bottom line, I’m a better person when I do it. Period. If you don’t believe me, just ask my husband. And being a better person seems like a worthy reason to do almost anything.

(With gratitude to DB for asking yet another beautiful question. Keep em’ coming.

Here's My Card

On a whim I decided to create new business cards. It was an exercise to clarify and communicate who I am and what I’m about. In business, and in life. Because it’s all the same. Or at least it should be.

I asked my husband to snap a few photos. The camera is rarely my friend, so I wasn’t overly optimistic that he’d capture an image that would capture me in an authentic and real way. But I’ll be go to hell, he did.

The photo became the front of the card. It makes a statement. Here I am. What you see here is what you’ll get there.

Underneath the card, my name. Because with all due respect to The Bard, our name matters. It contains our whole life story. Given to us when we’re born, we’ll be remembered by it after we’re gone.

Underneath my name, what I do. Because what we do matters too. Writing and speaking are two of the ways I connect life’s many dots, and share what I discover with others. My work is always about finding ways for us to more closely connect who we are with how we live. In business, and in life. Because it’s all the same. Or at least it should be.

The back of the card contains the usual contact information. Because connection matters too. As human beings we are hard wired for connection. But it’s hard to connect with someone if you don’t know how to get ahold of them.

There was still a lot of blank space on the back. Enough room for one statement that would sum it all up.

It all turned out to be a great exercise. It forced me to distill it all down to what would fit on a business card. Or maybe it’s a life card. Because it’s all the same. Or at least it should be.

What would your card say?

Swimming In Circles

“There is so much we can do to render service, to make a difference in the world—no matter how large or small our circle of influence.”

— Stephen Covey

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Just when it seems it can’t get any worse, scarier, more hateful or batshit crazy, it does. An autocratic bully wages an unprovoked war against a neighbor, a Lone Star governor declares war on one of our most vulnerable populations, and the possibility of finding common ground with our fellow citizens seems like a bridge so too far that we can’t imagine ever finding our way across it to one another.

Given the sorry state of our beautiful but broken world, the temptation for many of us is twofold: Doom scroll through our usual sources of information that keep us solidly entrenched behind our ideological bunkers, and/or turn a blind eye to the world and go about our business, hoping it will be better tomorrow. Spoiler alert. It won’t. Not without our help. As in, all of our help.

So, just what in the hell are we supposed to do for heaven’s sake?

Always a fan of any tool that can help us make sense of complex things—like say, the state of the world—I can’t help but think of Stephen Covey and his model of our circles of concern and influence found in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.

Here’s my take on his model:

Imagine three concentric circles. Better yet, grab a piece of paper and draw them. (See mine below. Fill in your own accordingly.)

Label the outer, and obviously largest one circle of concern. Herein lie all of those things that keep us awake at night. Issues that try as we might, we can’t change, fix, or eliminate. From unprovoked war to extremism of every ilk, global warming to the inflation rate, hunger to homelessness, and oh-so-many-more, all are worries that are out of our control. It isn’t that they don’t matter. It’s that they are beyond our reach.

Time spent here is foolish.

Name the middle one circle of influence. This is where our rubber meets the world’s road. It’s where who we are and how we show up can have a direct impact on the people, issues, and problems we care about. Covey suggests, and rightly so, that as we invest our time, efforts, and resources here, our circles of influence expand, bringing a little more of the world and our concerns within our reach.

Time spent here is fruitful.

Finally, let’s label that small inner space circle of control. Smack dab in the middle of it all, we get to choose. It is up to us, and only us, to decide who we are and what we care about. In here we equip ourselves—body, mind, and heart—so as to bring the best of who we are to whatever time we have left on the planet. Our greatest chance of making a positive difference “out there” hinges on our willingness to take ourselves on “in here”.

Time spent here is foundational.

Every day we have a choice to make. Will we drown in our circles of concern, or learn to swim in our circles of influence? Our shared future hangs in the balance, and we will sink or swim together.

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.)

Word of the Day: ALIVE

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.

Home Ownership

There is a big difference between a house and a home. A house is a structure. A framework within which we live, and what can be seen on the exterior says little about what goes on in the interior. From the outside, a house doesn’t give away much about what happens inside the home, and like many things, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. Having sold a house a time or two (five to be more precise), I know that location matters. Some neighborhoods are more desirable than others depending on our preferences, and most of us tend to buy into the best area that we can afford. When putting a house on the market, in order to distinguish ours from others that are similar, sellers are encouraged to create street appeal for potential buyers, and to stage the inside so that they can see themselves living within its walls. But location, street appeal and staging do not a home make.

Or a life for that matter.

When I set out to write a book a few years ago, I did it because it was the next right thing to do. I was compelled to write BLUSH: Women & Wine not to become rich and famous, but to discover why I had come to depend upon wine as a coping mechanism to soften the blows of my own life, and to invite my readers to embark on their own exploration with me. Yet the temptation was there, and sometimes still is, to make the book and my work look good out in the world, rather than using the book and my work to do good out in the world. I am often more easily enticed to sign up for another course to learn how to create a more successful platform instead of standing on the platform that I have and telling the story to those ready to hear it.

It can be easy to get caught up striving to situate ourselves in the right place, be seen with the right people, and surrounded by the right stuff. We develop an image that will appeal to those we seek to impress, and stage our lives to appear accomplished and successful. There is nothing wrong with working to cast ourselves and what we have to offer in the best light, but that is exterior window dressing to the real work of shining a light inside the walls of our life. The work of coming to know ourselves and our vocation, of cultivating our gifts and honing our craft. For only when we do that will we find ourselves at home in our own life, and it is only from there that we are able to step out into the world and offer what is uniquely ours to give.

When it comes to real estate it might be about location, location, location, but when it comes to real life, it is about vocation, vocation, vocation.

The Garage

So we have this garage. It’s a big, beautiful, well-built garage. It was specifically built to have room for two cars, ample storage space, a garbage and recycling station, a workshop to die for, and an upstairs bunkhouse for overflow guests, complete with a full bathroom, and mini-kitchen. It was planned for all of those, has room for all of those, but has none of those, because there isn’t room for any of those. It is filled to the brim with, well, we’re not sure what, but we’re about to find out.

Tomorrow is the first day of Garage Resurrection Week. We’ve set aside the time specifically and intentionally to rid it of any and everything that isn’t needed, wanted, or has past its usefulness, so that we can bring back to life the purpose for which it was built.

A garage is such a metaphor for life. A garage becomes filled with things that get in the way of why it was built in the first place, and a life gets filled with things that get in the way of why we are here in the first place.

It boils down to this…What to keep? What to toss? What to pass on?

Wish us luck.

A Safe Space

“The distance between what you want – what you clandestinely imagine in between the ritual tasks of the day – and where you are, is long.

The distance between where you are today and a first action toward what you want is embarrassingly short.

To be confused about the difference between near and far is to free your mind and bind your feet.”

David Berry - Rule13Learning

My first retreat of 2019 is over. Today I witnessed those present spend their precious day considering what it might mean for them to live more closely connected to who they are, why they are here, and where their life is calling them. Theirs was, as it always is, incredibly brave work, and I am humbled and grateful to have been their trail guide.

Today, as in any of my work, my greatest task was to help create a safe space. At the end of this day, here is what I am reminded of once again:

Given a safe space, people are able to engage in breathtakingly courageous thinking.

Given a safe space, people are able to recognize, listen to, and trust their inner teacher.

Given a safe space, people are able to show up for themselves, and for one another.

Given a safe space, people are able to find the courage to take the next right step, no matter how small or large it may be.

The Trailhead

There is a trail leading deeper into our lives, and the trailhead lies squarely beneath our feet. Personally and professionally, taking the next right step begins with a right understanding of where we are now. Moving forward, our task is to follow the trail that connects who we are with how we live, so as not to get lost in a life that isn't our own. 

Today I’m leading a retreat, and we will be considering three questions. Perhaps you’d like to join us.

Where are you now?

Where is life calling you?

How will you get there?

Our lives don't happen by accident; we participate in creating them every day, and one step at a time.

True North

There are such things as magnetic moments. Times when we sense an inner pull, an invitation to step more fully into our lives, calling us to our own true north, that unique, authentic, wholehearted life that is ours, and only ours, to live. 

Magnetic moments ask us to step over the threshold of uncertainty and fear, cross over the border of the familiar and the comfortable, and venture into the unknown. Marking both the ending of what has been, and the beginning of what could be, it is the threshold that bridges the gap. Sometimes that threshold sits beneath a door that opens inward, drawing us deeper into self-knowledge and awareness. This usually requires that we find the courage to look into our shadows, those parts of ourselves that we prefer to ignore or keep hidden, or those issues and relationships that call for our attention, but are painful, or scary to look at. Other times we are invited to venture further out, beyond the boundaries we’ve come to count on. Taking risks, embarking on new work, making important changes, practicing new ways of being in the world.

In case, like me, you didn’t know this, there is a difference between magnetic north and true north. A compass automatically points to magnetic north, which shifts over time, while true north does not change. In order to find true north a compass must be adjusted. Magnetic moments are an alert to adjust our inner compass. In the world of auto-correct, adjustments happen automatically on our devices, but not so in our own lives. Recognizing that magnetic pull, we adjust our inner compass to make sure it is aligned with who we are and what we care about. This adjustment doesn’t keep us safe…It keeps us true.

Magnetic moments are game changers, and the choice is always ours to step over that threshold.

Or not.

Either way the game changes.

This first day of the new year is a chance to adjust our inner compass, allowing it to help us make any necessary course corrections so as to step boldly towards true north. The life that is ours, and only ours, to live. This adjustment won’t keep us safe…it will keep us true.

First light of the first day of a new year.