Elder + Connector + Writer
Question of the day:
Who do I want to be in the midst of the life that I have?
We can’t change other people. We really can’t.
We can’t control many of the things that make life challenging. We really can’t.
What we can do is bring the best of ourselves to the day before us. And then get up and do it again tomorrow.
Photo by Porapak Apichodilok from Pexels
When morning comes and my eyes open to the dawn of another day, I have to be honest - my first thought isn’t one of welcome and joy. I’m not one who wakes up with a light heart.
I wish it were different. But it’s not.
I’ve tried waking up with gratitude by expressing thankfulness for a new day. And while I am truly, deeply grateful for every day given to me, I just don’t feel that way as I surface from sleep.
I wish it were different. But it’s not.
In my imagination I should wake up filled with happy feelings, ready to grab life by the hand and head out into the new day. In my imagination, if I were truly crafting a meaningful life, I wouldn’t wake up with a feeling that might best be described as melancholy.
I wish it were different. But it’s not.
Wishing it were different doesn’t make it so. It does, however, make it harder.
Parker Palmer, the writer, activist and teacher, refers to the soul as a wild animal. While it may be tough, resilient, resourceful, savvy, and self-sufficient: and, it knows how to survive in hard places, it is also exceedingly shy. Which means that if we want to catch a glimpse of a wild animal hidden in the forest, we must wait quietly, giving it a chance to emerge. So it seems must I wait quietly for my soul to emerge from sleep. Given quiet and time, and, of course, that sacred first cup of French Press coffee, the soul I know as mine makes her appearance. That’s just how she rolls. Taking me by the hand, we are off on another day of crafting a meaningful life.
As we let go of wishing it were different, we are able to welcome it as it is. And that is what makes all the difference.
Photo by Ben Jessop from Pexels
Recently, in conversation with a young professional, we talked about important skills that might help further their professional growth and development. The one that came to mind was the ability to think well on the spot. This wise young person referred to it as thinking on your toes. Now maybe that is a familiar phrase to everyone but me, but I’d never heard it put that way before.
Thinking on our feet is one thing. But thinking on our toes? That takes things to a whole new level.
To think on our toes means that we are poised and ready.
To think on our toes means that we are agile and responsive.
To think on our toes means that we live with anticipation, eager to encounter what life brings our way.
To think on our toes means that we’ve put in the time it takes to be able to trust ourselves in the moment.
To think on our toes means that we won’t get caught flat footed when challenges hit us or opportunity knocks.
To think on our toes means that we see life as the dance that it is, and are always ready to learn new steps.
Photo by Yogendra Singh from Pexels
At the end of an especially intense week full of emotional ups and downs, I am reminded of the importance of letting the dust settle.
After any time of intense emotional turmoil, difficult conversations, and unresolved issues, if you are like me, it is tempting to just keep stirring up the emotional dust. To become our own little swirling dust devils spinning out of control, negatively impacting all within our path.
We would be better served, as would those around us, to give ourselves time to sift through the dust and uncover our true feelings, suss out what lies at the heart of the issue, and wrap our minds around what’s really going on.
Only when the dust has settled, can clearer heads prevail.
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
I am wondering how often we do something just so that we can check off an emotional box.
The box that when checked says, if you do this, you won’t have to endure the discomfort that comes from doing things differently.
The box that when left unchecked, might result in another’s disappointment in us.
The box that when checked, relieves us of the fear of having to practice a healthier way of being in the world.
The box that when left unchecked, requires more of us.
No one, including me, looks forward to sitting with hard emotions. But then again, when was thinking, or acting, outside the box ever easy?
Years ago during some work with a colleague and now dear friend, my ears perked up when he told a room full of emerging leaders that they owed it to the people who would depend upon them to do what it would take to show up fully. To bring the best of themselves to every endeavor, every day.
That admonition has stuck with me ever since, and I work to not only share it with others, but to live it myself. Yesterday, when writing a blog post about my process for becoming a better steward of my time, his words from years ago came to mind again, as they often do. I ended the post by sharing the four categories I use to consider how to spend my time on who and what matter to me. And because it matters to me to be authentic and appropriately transparent about how I personally apply to myself what I am asking my readers to consider, I shared my four headings:
“In case you’re wondering, my categories were: Molly; People; Vocation; Everything Else. In that order.”
And, to be authentic and transparent, I had to think long and hard about confessing that the priorities for how I spend my time start with me. Even reading it now gives me pause as it sounds self-centered and like life is all about me. (Which, as the youngest of four, and as a four on the enneagram, sometimes it kinda is.) But this isn’t that. In order to show up for the other three categories well, for the people I love, the work that I offer, and everything else that matters to me, I have to bring as much of myself to those parties as I can.
Admittedly, every chapter is different, and what we can do to take care of ourselves in those chapters varies wildly. Sometimes the most we can do is find a few moments of quiet in which to take a few deep breaths. If this is one of those chapters, grab every one of those moments and gulp in as much air as you can before heading back into the fray. Sometimes extending grace to ourselves for doing what we can, and not shaming ourselves for what we can’t, is the most radical act of self care we can take.
We owe it to those who depend on us whether at home or at work or around the corner, to figure out what it takes to bring the best of ourselves to every endeavor, every day. And, we owe it to ourselves as well. I don’t want to leave anything on the table when my time is up. I just want to make sure I bring everything I have to the table while I’m here.
(Thank you DB)
pixels.com
How we spend our days, is, of course, how we spend our lives.
Annie Dillard
I have a love-hate relationship with time. I love that I have it and am grateful for every moment that is mine. I hate how hard it is to corral it, and to create a framework that enables me to spend those moments in meaningful ways.
There is no question that time is one of the most valuable resources entrusted to us, and like any other asset at our disposal, it is about so much more than mere management. It is about stewardship.
What will we do with the time we have?
It seems like a question worthy of some serious consideration, and today was my day to consider.
Taking different colored sticky notes, I created four categories, and the endeavors and activities that fall under each. Putting them up in separated columns on the wall, I began moving the pieces around to reflect my priorities. It wasn’t an exercise in creating a longterm plan. I was building a platform for creating a life.
When the picture felt complete, I began playing around with the calendar function shared on all of my devices. I use iCal exclusively for organizing my days, and so assigned a different color to each category so that my calendar visually mirrored the sticky notes on the wall.
While providing ample time for each category, I also built in margins. Times that provide a buffer and build in a sense of spaciousness. Looking at this newly emerging framework, I was reminded that just because there is open space on my calendar doesn’t mean I need to fill it. I began to get a glimpse of how knowing what matters will help me know what to do when, and make more clear what is mine to do. And, what is not. The further along in the process, the more I could see how I can better connect who I am at my core with how I live out in the world.
It’s still a work in progress, and hopefully will be until I run out of the moments that are mine to live. I can expect that for the rest of my days the unanticipated, good, bad, and otherwise, will show up and blow a carefully planned day out of the water, because time is meant to be fluid, not rigid.
Annie Dillard is right.
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.
Which means, of course, that to be good stewards of our lives, we must first become good stewards of our days.
In case you’re wondering, my categories were: Molly; People; Vocation; Everything Else. In that order.
What are yours?
Paris Clock Photo: Tom Pierson
Fall is here.
Fall is a time of harvesting the fruits of the season.
Fall is a time of harvesting the fruits of our labors.
Fall is a time of looking back on what we’ve sown, looking squarely on what we have reaped, and looking ahead to what is still ours to do before a new year begins.
The art of telling the truth takes a lifetime to master. Every day we are surrounded with opportunities to practice saying what we mean and meaning what we say. Telling the truth is as simple as that and as hard as it gets.
When it comes to having the real conversations, the ones that matter, it is tempting to take an easier way out. To couch what we say in general terms and hope they figure it out. To soften the message so that we don’t have to own up to what we really want to say if we had the courage.
Any truth, no matter how inconvenient, can be shared in a way that comes from the best of us. With practice, we can become more skilled at telling the truth as we see it, and more open to hearing how others see it. And that is how it can set us free.
Photo by Daniel Bendig from Pexels
MOLLY DAVIS is the founder of Trailhead Coaching & Consulting. She writes about lessons and adventures from the trail, and knows from firsthand experience that sometimes the only way to discover where you want to be, is to get lost where you don't. If you enjoyed this post, please feel free to pass it along.
BLOGS I FOLLOW: Rule13Learning | Seth Godin | Beanpole Pottery | Brain Pickings | Richard Rohr |
