MARGINS

Today is my sister's birthday. This post is shared with gratitude for the best sister a girl could ask for. Thank you for teaching me about the need for margins. They make all the difference. And... Happy Birthday Margie!! Where would we all be without you?

The Need For Space

Imagine a book in which the pages have no margins, or a photo where the image fills the frame with no space in which to sit.  The empty space is as important as the rest.  For it is the emptiness in which the words fill the page, the art the canvas, the photo the wall.  Without it the power of the words and beauty of the image is lost. Or at best, diminished. In order to be fully there, they have need of some  space.  So do we.  We have need of margins in which our lives can reside.

And yet.

The urge to fill my time with doing feels relentless, the willingness to simply stop and rest like a foreign language. Doing means I am getting somewhere. Doesn’t it?  Or in the constant going am I spinning my wheels, and in the doing am I coming undone. The ancient text says there is a time to work and a time to rest.

And yet.

How to find time in the midst of days that seem too short, calendars too full, the very real needs that press upon us, and the list that never ends? Like most things, it starts with one thing. Getting up thirty minutes earlier so as to linger over that first sacred sip of coffee.  (A no brainer.) Arranging my days more carefully. (Effort required) Shutting the door for thirty minutes of solitude in between meetings. (Often impossible)  Or maybe just five. (Usually doable)  Saying ‘no’ just once. (Scary at first, f-ing liberating as skill develops)  Not answering the phone just because it rings. (That’s an option?) Disconnecting from the internet so as to log on to my inner one. (Learning to surf all over again)

In order to write our stories well, to make something lovely of the lives we have, space is required. Margins can be as expansive as a silent retreat or sabbatical, as far away as a remote island, as close as a walk around the block, or as brief as a deep breath.

Where might a bit of space exist that is there for the taking?

Photo by Tom Pierson

First posted in September 2014 on Matters That Matter

When NO means YES

My new issue of Real Simple just came in the mail. It is one of my favorite magazines, as it really does provide ideas for keeping life both real and simple. Especially during the month of December when living up to the holiday  hype feels unrealistic and complicated. The theme for the issue, as we head into a new year is "Say Yes To Saying No." Those sound like marching orders a lot of us could relate to. And, the theme reminded me of an earlier blog I first posted on Matters That Matter. It takes a slight twist on the Real Simple theme, and, as one year winds down and a new one is about to begin, it seems like an idea worth a bit more reflection. What is waiting for your resounding YES? What could use a quiet but firm NO? The answer is usually real simple, but rarely real easy.

In the spirit of keeping life real simple, here was my take a couple of years ago.

My cell phone rang as Kristine and I walked back to the conference center to facilitate another workshop at the retreat. Gathered at a beautiful resort in Woodstock, NY, the woods ablaze with fall colors, it had already been two days of connection and inspiration, new friends and new ideas.  The workshop was one of our favorite topics, a best seller with clients, always a crowd pleaser, resulting in powerful insights for all.  Starting of course, with us. Since as everybody knows…”You teach what you need.”

With a few minutes to spare, and seeing that the call was from a client, I decided to answer. “Hey Molly. We’re in a big bind.  The person who was going to facilitate the Leadership Experience can’t make it.  Would you be able to do it?  It starts the day after tomorrow.”  Immediately I knew the answer to that question….

A vehement “No!”

As in…

Hell No!

Never!

Not on your life!

That kind of No.

While certified to facilitate the experience, I had yet to actually do so.  Not only that, it was going to be with a senior global team, and the facilitator they had really wanted was obviously not me. He had more experience, and was clearly their first choice.  Stepping into a big arena, trying to fill big shoes, coming in at the last minute, with people who expected someone else, felt like a recipe for disaster all around. Besides that, getting an earlier flight out would be almost impossible due to our commitment to the current retreat.  There was one other tiny little detail. I was terrified.   Afraid that I couldn’t do it, wouldn’t meet the high bar set by the group, and couldn’t measure up to their expectations, I respectfully declined, politely thanked him for thinking of me, wished him the best of luck, and hung up the phone, filled with relief.  Except the relief kept getting pushed down to make room for something else.

Regret.

My reasons for saying no were logical.  It  made perfect sense.  Still, I had the sense that I had just let myself down.  Imperfect as my facilitation might be, was it possible that I was the perfect person for the job, and it the perfect job for me?

It was time for the retreat workshop to begin.  Stepping up to kick it off, I couldn’t get that phone call out of my mind. Thankfully, Kristine stepped in and masterfully led the group through the first exercise, allowing me to clear my head of my swirling thoughts.  In saying No to the request, I was saying Yes to my fear.  In answering No to a big challenge, I was opting for a Yes to playing it safe.  Just then I heard Kristine as she continued leading the participants through the exercise, asking them to complete the statement: “If I had the courage, I would………

Oh, did I forget to mention that the topic of our workshop was COURAGE? Oops.

Heads bent over their journals, the participants began to write down as many ideas for completing that sentence as they could.   As they finished writing, I stepped back in front to lead them through some reflection on what they had just discovered. Looking into their faces and seeing their courage, they led me back to my own.

As soon as our workshop was over, I called the client back.  “Yes.  I’ll be there.  To be clear, this will be the first time I’ve actually facilitated it, and I won’t have time to review any of the materials.  If flying by the seat of my pants is ok with you, I’ll change my flight and be there.”  It was a powerful Yes that began as an overwhelming No. Rather than disaster all around, it turned into a blessing for all concerned.  Starting of course, with me. Instead of a miserable failure, it was a mighty success. Starting of course, with me.

Now when I experience a knee-jerk “No!” and want to run the other direction, I pull up my boot straps and start walking the scary trail toward Yes.

When our first response is No, can we find the courage to search for the deeper Yes?

When desperate to scream No, can we find the strength to whisper Yes?

When it feels safer to say No, can we brave the waves to Yes?

Yes.  We can.

No.  it isn’t easy.

And Yes. That means we are on the right track.

TODAY

November 9, 2016

November 8, 2016. Election Day 2016. A historic day by any measure. 

But that was yesterday.

Today.

I write here not because there are more words needed as we collectively process what has just happened. Already I have been inspired by words more articulate and powerful than I can put forth. Words that I needed in order to get myself up, out of bed, and a tiny bit more equipped for the time ahead. 

If you need a little equipping yourself, these are the voices that made all the difference for me today:

President Obama speaking today from the White House

Still We Rise by Glennon Doyle Melton

Anne Lamott

Brene Brown

Resilience by Seth Godin

And from my fierce daughter Haley... hers, posted on FB, were the first words I read this morning:

"It's hard to know what to say this morning. I am sad, I am grieving, and I know that because of how I look, how my family looks, we will likely come through this mostly unscathed. But that does nothing to ease my heartache. It does nothing to ease my grief. 

My heart aches for the marginalized, for the people of color, the disabled, the immigrants, the LGBTQ community, the Muslim community, for everyone who does not fit into a white heterosexual box. As a Christian it is not my job to make sure I vote so that this country adheres to my personal faith beliefs. It is my job to love you, to consider you when I vote, to vote for my neighbor, for the orphan, the alien, and the poor in our midst. 

I am deeply sorry and I will spend the next four years listening, acting, loving, and fighting for you."

Today.

I write here because I need to hold myself to a higher standard than the lower one that is pulling on my shirttails. That lower standard is the one  fueled by fear, blame, rage, and hatred. I write here because I refuse to be pulled down, and the only way I know how to rise up is to drive my stake deep into the ground and hold on for dear life.

Today.

I write here because I need to give voice to my commitments. 

In the wise, quiet words of my husband this morning, our job now is not to project what might happen, worry about what could take place, or imagine the worst possible outcomes. That only fuels the fear and fans the flames of hatred and blame that have burned recklessly across this broken, beautiful country of ours. 

Today.

I write here because I need to remember what I said I would do today, so that I don't forget what I said tomorrow.

I commit to choose love over fear. Every time. And I know it will be hard.

I commit to listen deeply, especially to those who see it differently. And I know that it will be hard.

I commit to choose love over fear. Every time. And I know it will be hard.

I commit to speak out against injustice when I see it, and to speak up for the rights of all. And I know that it will be hard.

I commit to choose love over fear. Every time. And I know that it will be hard.

I commit to abstain from name-calling, poison dart throwing, and stone slinging. And I know that it will be hard.

I commit to choose love over fear. Every time. And I know it will be hard.

I commit to work for the good of all and the leaving behind of none. And I know that it will be hard.

I commit to choose love over fear. Every time. And I know it will be hard.

Today.

Now is the time. Here is the place. This is what we have.

Let's choose love over fear. Every time. Even though it will be hard. 

Because love trumps fear. Every time. 

"Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been to the mountaintop."

                                                                           - Martin Luther King

Holding Space

Recently a friend asked me to "hold space" for him. Life is bubbling up some big shit and he is working to make sense of it all. That sounded more than vaguely familiar to me, so when the request came to hold space, I agreed to doing so without hesitation. And, I asked for him to do the same for me. We have committed to being present to one another in an intentional way, so that we might each find ourselves more able to do the work that is ours to do. No one can do our work for us. Our questions are our own to live. But there is something good that happens when we live them together. Going it together reminds us that we are not alone in our efforts to make sense of things. 

Holding space for someone is part of what it means to be in relationship with those we care about. But what does it really mean to "hold space" for someone? My friend wasn't asking me for my advice, to share my ideas, or give him some thoughts on the matter. He was asking that space be held, by me, for him, to do what he had to do. Since I believe that the words we use matter, I decided to start with the dictionary. Space, among other things, is defined as a continuous expanse that is free, available and unoccupied. Each element gives insight into what it might mean to hold space for another human being.

A CONTINUOUS EXPANSE: We need room to do our inner work, because such an endeavor requires that we take things apart, spread them out, identify what we have to work with, what we are missing, and what is no longer useful. Then, and only then can we figure out how to put things back together in a new and more wholehearted way.

A space that is FREE: Any craftsman will tell you that clutter gets in the way of doing good work. There is no better work than crafting inner lives that connect who we are with what we do and how we do it, A clean workspace is one that is free of judgements, advice, instruction and criticism. 

A space that is AVAILABLE: Insight and understanding, exploration and discovery, all have their own timetable...they don't usually show up on demand. Available space is room that is ours for the taking. It is at our disposal and is space to which we have total access anytime of the day or night. 

A space that is UNOCCUPIED: No one else lives there. It is ours to inhabit. If someone else joins us there it is because we have invited them in. 

To hold space means to offer a continuous expanse that is free, available and unoccupied. It can be mental, emotional, spiritual, and sometimes even physical space within which to do the good, hard, and sacred work of becoming more fully ourselves.

To  hold space means to walk alongside, and to listen deeply.

To hold space means to offer support without conditions, and to ask questions without providing answers. 

To hold space means to create a framework within which to feel safe enough to fail and courageous enough to risk.

Space held communicates that we are seen and heard. It reminds us that we are not alone and that there is someone standing with us and believing in us. Holding space means we are available rather than intrusive, supportive rather than directive, and respectful rather than judgmental.

Holding space for one another is how we are able to find our way forward in the life that is ours.