A Flaming Mystic: Practicing the Presence

One of my favorite podcasts is On Being , hosted by Krista Tipett. She is one of the best interviewers out there, and one of my favorite episodes was her conversation with Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen, a physician working in the field of integrative medicine. Dr. Remen was speaking about her grandfather, a man who had profoundly shaped her life and view of the world. He was an Orthodox rabbi who studied the Kabbalah. She referred to him as a "flaming mystic", and went on to clarify what she meant by that term. Paraphrasing here, she said that her grandfather viewed the world as a place that was inhabited by a Presence, One with whom we could be in constant communication. We could daily, constantly, be in conversation with this abiding Presence by speaking to and asking of, and be directly spoken to and asked of right back. I LOVE that view of the world, it is one that I share, and, one that I all too often forget. In the midst of my days it is easy to imagine that I am out here on my own, forgetting that I'm connected to life in deep and mysterious ways that are as real as real can be.  

The word mystic can be scary to some as it might suggest a connection to some sort of magic or  "new age nonsense". To others, the term can seem foolish as it is not grounded in scientific fact and hard evidence. I wonder if looking at the  word in either of those ways shortchanges us of some of the riches that life wants to offer. Personally, I believe that we are all, every single one of us, created in the image of a magnificent God. That the creative force behind all of life is present around us and in us, and wants to work with and through us. Every. Single. One. Of. Us. I believe that we are all here to live our most authentic and whole-hearted lives. And, I believe we are all here to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach. Weaving those three beliefs together is where the magic happens. Connected to the Source, we become a source of healing and helping in the world in our own authentic and whole-hearted way. 

You may or may not agree with Rabbi Remen. But what if, just for the heck of it, we all tried on a mystic hat for size. Wake up in the morning and connect with that magnificent Presence, by speaking to and asking of, and then listening for the response. Perhaps we will find that the voice that speaks back to us is as close as our own hearts.

Photo: Brad Hannon

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.

* Wikipedia

Friend or Foe?

“The most important decision we make is whether we believe we live in a friendly or hostile universe.”

- Albert Einstein

I made this decision for the first time years ago. 

For my money, we live in a friendly universe. I've been blessed with a few deep and lasting friendships, and what I've learned about friendship is that it is based on love, respect, and a deep concern for the well being of one another. The universe in which I live (and which we all share regardless of how we see it) is founded on and held together by that same kind of love. Love with a capital 'L'. Like a good and true friend, it sees us for who we are and loves us in spite of ourselves. It wants the best for us and will offer up limitless support if we will only open our hands and our hearts to its help. 

What we look for determines what we see, and what we look for is determined by our answer to this "most important decision." If we look for evidence that we live in a hostile universe, we will find it everywhere. In traffic, the media (social and otherwise), our places of employment, in the checkout line at the grocery store, and definitely inside our own heads and hearts. The world is out to harm us and we'd better armor up. If, on the other hand, we look for evidence that we live in a friendly place, we will find evidence of it everywhere. To be honest, this is easier said than done for me on many days, but if I choose this lens through which to look at the world, I find evidence of this friendly universe in traffic, the media (social or otherwise), our places of employment, the checkout line at the grocery store, and, inside my own head and heart. The world is out to help me  and I'd better gear up. What goes around, comes around. And we keep that cycle going based on how we see the world.

This isn't a small decision. 

This isn't a one-and-done kind of thing.

It is a monumental decision.

It is made multiple times, usually on a moment-by-moment basis. 

In this moment, what say you? Friend of Foe? 

Your answer will make all the difference.

Rise and Shine

Recently I was lucky enough to spend a week at Rancho La Puerta in Tecate, Baja California, Mexico as a presenter. I was there to talk about the importance of "Trusting Your Own Magnet" - how to sense where life is calling you, and how you might get there.  My youngest daughter  Lauren came with me, and every morning we were up early, sitting out on the veranda with our sacred first cups of French Press coffee and setting our intentions for the day. Not surprisingly, our days unfolded with a sense of ease, space and grace.  It. Was. Glorious.

But when someone is serving you beautiful, organic meals made from vegetables just harvested from the Ranch garden and prepared by people who pray over and bless the food before serving it, making your bed in the morning and turning it down at night, leading you in quiet meditations, massaging and herbal wrapping your body, and serving you just made smoothies... well... if my day didn't go well.... #suckstobeme.

One afternoon fellow presenter Lindsay Sherry, a certified nutritionist and holistic health coach, was sharing 8 Tips for Creating Your Best and Healthiest Life!. Tip number one, numero uno, at the top of the heap? Take time in the morning just for you. Her words rang true. The ones that resonated even more? If we're going to win the day, we have to win the first hour. Period. End of sentence. It's as simple as that, and as hard as it gets. Especially when you're not at a world-class health spa with gracious people attending to your every need.

Back home, in the midst of the magic and the mess that is my real life, with meals to cook and beds to make, laundry to do and bills to pay, relationships to tend to and emails to write, it's a little tricker. And yet those morning hours set the table for the rest of the day. They really do. And if I let the table get set for me (hello depressing news, toxic tweets, social media rabbit holes, hitting the snooze button - again, and fake food for breakfast) I shouldn't be surprised if my daily bread tastes stale. Thankfully I came home from the Ranch committed to becoming committed to winning my first hour. Currently, this is what that looks like:

• Up at 5:30ish, hopefully after at least 7 hours of sleep
• Out on the porch sipping Sleepy Monk French Press coffee out of my favorite  before 6:00
• 20 minutes of meditation (or at least pretending to meditate)
• A little inspirational reading (sometimes only time for a sentence or two)
• Off to the gym for a workout

I wish I could tell you that I got it right every day. But I don't. I wish I could tell you that I was up to an hour of meditation a day and have found inner peace unlike ever before. But I'm lucky to get in that 20 minutes, and inner peace is a total crap shoot. What I can tell you is that I am learning to trust the practice and just get up and do it. I am finding a tiny sliver  of inner calm that I can access a wee bit easier. Rather than react, I'm a tiny bit more able to take a deep breath and a step back. With more time in the gym my energy is increasing as is my muscle tone. My morning practice to win the day is a work in progress, and comparing mine to that of anyone else doesn't help. I seem to be in pretty good company about that. In The Book of Joy, Archbishop Desmond Tutu dismisses his own morning meditation practice when compared to His Holiness the Dalai Lama's of arising at 3:00am for five hours of prayer and meditation. The Archbishop doesn't haul his sorry ass out of bed until 4:00am and then only manages to squeeze in three or four hours of prayer and meditation. Like Teddy Roosevelt said, "Comparison is the Thief of Joy." 

I've been a morning person for as long as I can remember. Apparently I arrived on the planet wired to get up before the sun does. But being an early riser does not a good day make. What we do when our feet hit the floor does. 

A Sense of Entitlement

When you hear the word "entitlement" what comes to mind? Those people who want something for nothing? Sometimes at our expense? How dare they?! Easy to smugly think that I'm not one of those people. 

The other morning while happily working out, pushing through an interval training session on the elliptical machine, I was listening to Typology - a favorite podcast featuring Enneagram teacher, episcopal priest and co-author of The Road Back To You, Ian Cron. The podcast "...explores the mystery of the human personality and how we can use the Enneagram typing system as a tool to become our most authentic selves." I love this podcast, and anything that can add to my attempts to become my most authentic self is good by me. As a 4 on the Enneagram, authenticity gets straight to the heart of my matter.

On this particular morning at an especially juicy part of the episode, I accidentally caught my headphone cord on my arm while reaching for my water bottle, simultaneously ripping my earbuds out and flinging my iPhone to the floor. I guess my most authentic self loves to yell the "F" word, and smack my hand on the elliptical handles. More than once. The feeling I had could perhaps best be described as a fiery hot flash of anger. How dare that happen to me?!

Climbing off the machine to retrieve everything, I started to wonder why that little, teeny, tiny, mishap had gotten under my skin so quickly. As things go, this was a nano-thing. It wasn't like my bank account was overdrawn and I couldn't afford groceries for my family, or didn't know where I would sleep that night because the homeless shelter was full. A loved one hadn't just tragically died in a suicide bombing, nor had I lost my home to a hurricane. I wasn't the subject of identity theft, not had I been subjected to sexual harassment in return for another day of work. Nope. My $700 iPhone had dropped on the floor, safe in its $69 waterproof, shockproof case, and my ears were a little irritated from the ripped out earbuds. Let's talk First World problems here. The word "entitlement" quietly slipped into my mind. I'm not fond of that word, especially when applied to me, as it conjures up images of people who don't want to put in the work. All of the glory, none of the guts. Their needs always matter more. The world owes them. The college graduate who doesn't want to start at the bottom and earn their way up. The driver who endangers everyone else by cutting in and out of traffic because apparently her time is more precious than ours. Entitled people are the ones who think the rules don't apply to them. How dare they?!

That's. Not. Me. 

Well then, exactly what did I imagine I was entitled to in that moment when my iPhone went sailing to the floor? No discomfort? The right to finish the podcast in peace? No obstacles in the way? Smooth sailing? And then I remembered a few other occurrences that showcased what was looking like my own subtle brand of entitlement. Like the time not too long ago when I was driving out of our driveway for a meeting, and  my cup of coffee spilled all over my oh-so-casual-but-carefully-chosen outfit. I screamed so hard and so loud that my throat hurt for the next two days. Think Linda Blair in The Exorcist with her head spinning around, a guttural, other-worldly sound coming from a very, very dark place. Or the time when I banged my knee on my open filing cabinet drawer and slammed it shut so many times that it required the help of my husband (who never seems to scream, slam, or spill anything) to finally pry it open. Do you see a theme here? Yeah. Me too.

Those outward immature temper tantrums point to something deeper and hidden below my mature looking surface. It seems that I have a deeply rooted belief that nothing should get in my way, or ruin my plans. That I have a right for things to work out as I think they should, and that I deserve to proceed along my merry way uninterrupted. I hate to admit it, but those sound strangely like  senses of entitlement. So, where else might it raise its ugly little head? How about when I'm savoring my first cup of coffee in the quiet morning hours and someone calls on the phone. How dare they?! I am entitled to these few moments of peace and quiet dammit! Or when I've cleared the decks and have a whole day at my desk to write, and suddenly someone needs my help. Right now! How dare they?! Don't I have a right to an uninterrupted day? Don't get me wrong, I am all for self-care and the importance of making time for ourselves, our health, our loves, and our work. But that's not what I'm talking about here. This is about the underlying belief that I have a right for things to work out exactly how I want, when I want, and where I want.

Time to look even deeper.

My latest book came out last year. BLUSH: Women & Wine felt  important to write, and it was. It is well written, has a relevant message, and has the potential to touch people's lives for the good.  But now that it is out in the world, it isn't getting the notice I think it deserves. And perhaps even more embarrassingly honest, I'm not getting the attention I think I deserve, the speaking gigs I love, or the opportunities to showcase what I have to offer. As a 4 on the Enneagram, I'm long on big dreams, but can fall short of taking the consistent small steps it takes to bring a vision to life. I talk about it with my coaching clients and in my workshops, but I am lazy about actually doing it myself. Recently a good friend (and fellow Enneagram 4) sent me a link to a Will Smith video about the self-discipline it takes to achieve success. He's talking about material success, but it's true of anything we set out to do, become, contribute. We don't deserve success. We're not entitled to it. We don't have a right to it. We make it happen. Day by day. Choice by choice. Step by step.

To replace my newly recognized and embarrassing sense of entitlement with a much more energizing sense of accomplishment, I've implemented a new practice. Do at least one thing a day to further my progress.

Oh...And count to ten before swearing, screaming, or slamming. 

Winter Outside. Winter Inside.

It's early in the morning, and as is our custom, my husband Tom and I are taking time to do a little reading, attempt to meditate, and savor that first sacred cup of coffee. The view out our great room window, however, is depressing. It has been raining for days. Never quite cold enough to snow. Never quite warm enough to melt the dirty white patches underneath the pine trees, remnants of that first pristine snowfall on Christmas Eve. The dismal weather set in a few weeks ago, and isn't showing any signs of lifting. 

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

I have an interior sense of gloom and sadness that has settled in, and it isn't showing any signs of lifting either. Familiar with depression, this scares me just a little. It's hard to find the motivation to do almost anything, and the pressure to just do something is building. A month of 2018 is already behind me, and what do I have to show for it? What if the words don't start to flow onto the page again? What if the ideas I've been nurturing never flourish? What if the seeds I've been planting never put down roots and become something alive and vital?  

The view out our window only reinforces my internal dismal weather pattern.

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

Wrapping my hands more tightly around my coffee cup, I say to Tom, "My insides feel exactly like it looks outside". 

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

He doesn't say anything, and my internal ground-fog  settles in lower.  As is his way, he is slow to speak, and when he finally breaks the silence, here is what he says;  "This is the only time of the year that the earth gets to just be. To simply lay there and soak up the rain. It is almost as if you can hear the earth exhale a sigh of relief at the forced rest of the winter months. Nothing to do but quietly receive." Tom is a geologist and has spent his life studying the ground beneath our feet. As a man who has lived his life close to the earth, he has learned to recognize her ancient wisdom, her deep knowing that there is a time for everything, and a season to every purpose under heaven. 

I try to let his words sink in, and attempt to do nothing but quietly receive the perspective he is offering. Looking out the window again, something shifts inside. I begin to let go of the fear that the sun will never break through my clouds, and find instead a small handhold of faith that in good time, it will. Rather than anxiously hold my breath, I slowly exhale, and find a quiet sense of relief. Instead of grasping at straws, I take a stab at receiving the gifts of quiet and stillness that this dark, gray, and gloomy day might offer. 

There is a time for everything, and a season to every purpose under heaven. Including this one:

Dark. Gray. Gloomy.

And it is not for naught. It is for the purpose of preparing the earth for what is still to come, nourishing her for the work of the coming season. Looking out the window again it dawns on me that it would be wise to listen to this ancient wisdom. Heading upstairs to my desk I decide that this must be the time to faithfully show up at my desk, trusting that the words will again begin to flow.  It is the time to purposefully water the ideas that are quietly germinating. And, this is the season to nurture the seeds that are too busy putting down roots to show themselves above the quiet earth in which they have been planted. 

There is a time for everything, and a season to every purpose under heaven.

Amen.

Time For New Stories

As I reflect on this new year, I want to share a singular thought that keeps coming to me—2018: The Year of New Stories.

I’ve decided to consider what old stories are ready to be put to bed. Those stories that might have served me in the past, or maybe never did. The stories that I don't want to take with me into 2018. And, with more room in my heart, mind, and soul, what new stories might I be able to write? To tell? To create? To live? 

Our stories can keep us stuck in old patterns, and confine us to small dreams and fruitless actions. Or, they can open the doors to new ways of being in the world and in relationship with ourselves and with one another. New stories offer us a vision of how things could be, and invite us to take daring and necessary leaps of faith. Sometimes they even weave new patterns in our hearts that allow us to make peace for the first time with who we are in all of our glory and our brokenness. 

As 2018 begins, I find my heart overflowing with gratitude for you...for those of you who are near and dear, those with whom I have only recently crossed paths for the first time, and, for those of you I may never meet but who share this planet we all call home. You matter in so many ways, and my life is abundantly filled with love, deep joy, and meaning because of what each of you bring to the world.

As human beings we are storytellers at heart, and we see ourselves in one another's stories. May we be bold, and bring forth stories worthy of telling for years to come.

With abundant gratitude.

Molly

Photo: Tom Pierson

The United Church of the NFL

Most Sundays I attend the church where my husband and I are members. We are an open, affirming and accepting church which means all are invited to the table, the doors are open in extravagant welcome to any who would enter, and when we come together as a community, we try to live with the hard questions rather then settle for the easy answers. On any given Sunday the sermon challenges me to live more courageously, and to care about and work for what matters.

I love our church.

This past Sunday, it had been a long but good week, and our church is a 45 minute drive away, so God and I decided to stay home. Turning on the TV to watch a little NFL football, I discovered that I didn't have to leave home to go to church. Church came to me. Welcome to the United Church of the NFL. After reading this post I hope that you will come away challenged to live more courageously, and to care about and work for what matters.

I love the NFL

Some people will tell you that a good sermon is a 3 Point Sermon, which as you can probably guess, serves up three key points. Here are the three I received from the pulpit of the NFL.

Standing for what you believe in might mean sitting down.

Across the league teams chose to protest during the national anthem. Some sat, some kneeled, others raised fists, while still others locked arms or held hands. A few teams decided to stay in the locker room or tunnel until the anthem was over. This was not a protest against our flag or a sign of disrespect towards all who have served or are serving this beautiful, broken country of ours. It was not done in an effort to undermine the ultimate sacrifice that countless members of our military have made throughout our history. In fact, quite the opposite. The players were calling us to a higher standard for which those sacrifices were made. The were calling our entire country to a higher standard, us as individuals to a higher standard, and, they were calling the leader of this great country to a higher standard. A standard that should reflect what this country claims to stand for when we raise the American flag high in the air. The claim that all are created equal and deserving of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, not to mention deserving of respect, dignity, compassion, and for God's sake, common human decency and kindness. And since it starts at the top, our leader should lead the way, should set the highest of high standards. Unfortunately, thus far, he has not, did not, and is not. His bar has been set ever lower, as demonstrated by yet another divisive tweet from the man elected to lead our country. A tweet that  demanded some kind of appropriate response from players and coaches alike.  Pete Carroll, head coach of the Seattle Seahawks, as a true leader does, chose to "go high" in his response, speaking truth to power in a tweet of his own. 

We don't have to agree on everything to come together for the common good.

After watching several games, numerous press conferences, and reading various commentaries, it is obvious that not everyone agreed on the approach to take regarding the national anthem. Since the Seattle Seahawks are my team (forever and ever amen) I take this second point from them. From what was shared in his Monday Press Conference Pete Carroll said that it took multiple meetings, challenging conversations, the expression of emotions that ran deep and raw, intentional listening, and ultimately, a willingness to come together for the greater good of the team. According to Coach Carroll, there were players for whom it was a painfully difficult decision to choose to stay in the locker room, and not be present on the field during the national anthem. Ultimately, what made it possible for everyone in the room to come together as a team is the same thing that is needed to bring our divided country together. Empathy. Somehow the players,  found a way to extend empathy to one another, to attempt, to at least try, to walk in one another's shoes, to see life through a lens different than their own, and to entertain the possibility that the experience of one of their teammates might have something important to teach them. That is incredibly hard work to do, and it requires more strength, courage, and resilience than any football game ever will.  But...If they can do it, I believe we can too. We have to. 

(For more insight from players, listen in as Doug Baldwin and Michael Bennett share their thoughts in their post game press conferences.)

Keep Going

My daughter has a favorite coffee mug, made by Oiselle -a Seattle-based by women, for women athletic apparel company. The mug is white with the following words on it: 

 

"There is no secret. Keep going." *

This final point in the NFL sermon was brought to life during an unfortunate play late in the first half of the game between the Chicago Bears and the Pittsburg Steelers. Marcus Cooper, Cornerback for the Chicago Bears, got his hands on a blocked field goal. Ball in hand he took off at full speed, on his way to what looked like a sure touchdown. None of the Steelers were going to be able to stop him, and it appeared that he was home free. And then he just slowed down. He started his celebration before crossing over into the end zone, which gave those in pursuit time to force a fumble at the one yard line. The result, due to a penalty on the Steelers, gave the Bears just enough time for a field goal and an additional three points. It could have been seven, but the player with the ball in his hands slowed down. He didn't keep going. 

Our country is in trouble, and it is going to take all of us to fix it. It isn't going to be easy. It isn't going to be quick. We have to keep pushing forward We have to keep our eye on the prize, which is a country in which the flag we raise reflects liberty and justice for all. A flag for which we are all proud to stand.

Amen.

* mug no longer available for sale on Oiselle website

The United Church of the NFL

Most Sundays I attend the church where my husband and I are members. We are an open, affirming and accepting church which means all are invited to the table, the doors are open in extravagant welcome to any who would enter, and when we come together as a community, we try to live with the hard questions rather then settle for the easy answers. On any given Sunday the sermon challenges me to live more courageously, and to care about and work for what matters.

I love our church.

This past Sunday, It had been a long but good week, and our church is a 45 minute drive away, so God and I decided to stay home. Turning on the TV to watch a little NFL football, I discovered that I didn't have to leave to go to church. Church came to me. Welcome to the United Church of the NFL. After reading this post I hope that you will come away challenged to live more courageously, and to care about and work for what matters.

I love the NFL

Some people will tell you that a good sermon is a 3 Point Sermon, which as you can probably guess, serves up three key points. Here are the three I received from the pulpit of the NFL.

Standing for what you believe in might mean sitting down.

Across the league teams chose to protest during the national anthem. Some sat, some kneeled, others raised fists, while still others locked arms or held hands. A few teams decided to stay in the locker room or tunnel until the anthem was over. This was not a protest against our flag or a sign of disrespect towards all who have served or are serving this beautiful, broken country of ours. It was not done in an effort to undermine the ultimate sacrifice that countless members of our military have made throughout our history. In fact, quite the opposite. The players were calling us to a higher standard for which those sacrifices were made. The were calling our entire country to a higher standard, us as individuals to a higher standard, and, they were calling the leader of this great country to a higher standard. A standard that should reflect what this country claims to stand for when we raise the American flag high in the air. The claim that all are created equal and deserving of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, not to mention deserving of respect, dignity, compassion, and for God's sake, common human decency and kindness. And since it starts at the top, our leader should lead the way, should set the highest of high standards. Unfortunately, thus far, he has not, did not, and is not. His bar has been set ever lower, as demonstrated by yet another divisive tweet from the man elected to lead our country. A tweet that  demanded some kind of appropriate response from players and coaches alike.  Pete Carroll, head coach of the Seattle Seahawks, as a true leader does, chose to "go high" in his response, speaking truth to his power in a tweet of his own. 

We don't have to agree on everything to come together for the common good.

After watching several games, numerous press conferences, and reading various commentaries, it is obvious that not everyone agreed on the approach to take regarding the national anthem. Since the Seattle Seahawks are my team (forever and ever amen) I take this second point from them. From what was shared in his Monday Press Conference Pete Carroll said that it took multiple meetings, challenging conversations, the expression of emotions that ran deep and raw, intentional listening, and ultimately, a willingness to come together for the greater good of the team. According to Coach Carroll, there were players for whom it was a painfully difficult decision to choose to stay in the locker room, and not be present on the field during the national anthem. Ultimately, what made it possible for everyone in the room to come together as a team is the same thing that is needed to bring our divided country together. Empathy. Somehow the players,  found a way to extend empathy to one another, to attempt, to at least try, to walk in one another's shoes, to see life through a lens different than their own, and to entertain the possibility that the experience of one of their teammates might have something important to teach them. That is incredibly hard work to do, and it requires more strength, courage, and resilience than any football game ever will.  But...If they can do it, I believe we can too. We have to. 

(For more insight from players, listen in as Doug Baldwin and Michael Bennett share their thoughts in their post game press conferences.)

Keep Going

My daughter has a favorite coffee mug, made by Oiselle -a Seattle-based by women, for women athletic apparel company. The mug is white with the following words on it: 

 

"There is no secret. Keep going." *

This final point in the NFL sermon was brought to life during an unfortunate play late in the first half of the game between the Chicago Bears and the Pittsburg Steelers. Marcus Cooper, Cornerback for the Chicago Bears, got his hands on a blocked field goal. Ball in hand he took off at full speed, on his way to what looked like a sure touchdown. None of the Steelers were going to be able to stop him, and it appeared that he was home free. And then he just slowed down. He started his celebration before crossing over into the end zone, which gave those in pursuit time to force a fumble at the one yard line. The result, due to a penalty on the Steelers, gave the Bears just enough time for a field goal and an additional three points. It could have been seven, but the player with the ball in his hands slowed down. He didn't keep going. 

Our country is in trouble, and it is going to take all of us to fix it. It isn't going to be easy. It isn't going to be quick. We have to keep pushing forward We have to keep our eye on the prize, which is a country in which the flag we raise reflects liberty and justice for all. A flag for which we are all proud to stand.

Amen.

* mug no longer available for sale on Oiselle website

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:

1. We are all created in the image of God.
2. We are all called to live as authentically and whole-heartedly as we are able.
3. 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

JULY 10, 2017DAVID BERRY

“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.