Wing-Walking

“All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.”

~ Havelock Ellis

There’s something called the Wing-Walker principle.

Often featured stunts in airshows of the past, wing-walkers were those daredevil folk willing to crawl out of the cockpit of an airborne biplane, and walk on the wing. Those watching from the ground, as well as the walker on the wing, knew that imminent death was a possibility.

The wing-walker principle, as explained to me, is that you never let go of one handhold until you have another one to grab on to. Makes good sense to me.

This same principle holds true on more than an airplane wing.

Life often feels as precarious as being out on an airplane wing, high above the ground, and the wind ready to blow you to kingdom come. There are times when it feels like you won’t survive, and that death is a real possibility if you can’t find something to hold onto.

When big change is upon us, what we’ve held onto in the past may not be able to sustain us where we are going, and In order to make our way forward, we have to find the next handhold.

Not the next ten.

Not even the next two.

Just the next thing to grab onto that will help us to hold steady in the gale force winds that threaten to push us off into thin air. That handhold could be the next phone call, decision, step, action, or piece of new information that will allow us to let go of the old, and begin to take hold of the new.

One handhold at a time, until we are again on solid ground.

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Prop The Door Open

“To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation.”

~ from The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

This morning as I was working out in the little gym in town, I opened the door to let in the  gorgeous view of the fall colors in the distance, some fresh autumn air, and a little more light. I was facing the door while lifting some weights, when a slight breeze picked up outside, and the door slowly and quietly began to shut. It stopped about two-thirds of the way, leaving only a third of the view, fresh air, and light.

I’d forgotten to prop it open with a rock.

It is safe to say that while I am squarely in the third-third of my life, there is still a lot out there that is mine to do. More words to write, more retreats to lead, more stages from which to speak, more clients to coach, more work on which to collaborate, more adventures with the love of my life, more time with the “littles” in our family, more time with those I love, and, more to discover every step of the way.

In order to make good on what is still mine to do, I have to keep the door to whatever that is open.

So do you.

An open door keeps our vision in front of us, breathes fresh air into our work, and shines light on our steps. But the door won’t stay open of its own accord. We have to prop it open with our rock-solid commitment to pursuing the good work to which we are called, the authentic, whole-hearted lives that we are here to live, and the people whose hearts we are here to love and to touch.

The door to the life that is ours can begin to close, ever so slowly and quietly, if we don’t remember to prop it open with a rock.

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Many Happy Returns

Many happy returns on the day of thy birth

Many seasons of sunshine be given

May God in his mercy prepare you on earth

For a beautiful birthday in heaven

I don’t know where this birthday blessing originated, but for as long as I can remember, it is what we say when anyone in our family blows out the candles on their cake. Without the blessing, there is no cake.

Many happy returns on the day of thy birth

May your trips around the sun be many.

Many seasons of sunshine be given

May you have joy in abundance for as long as you live.

May God in his mercy prepare you on earth

May your work on earth be worthwhile.

For a beautiful birthday in heaven

May the world be forever better because you were here.

Last night we celebrated my 65th birthday, and the order of the evening was as it always is.

Blow out the candles.

Receive the blessing.

Eat the cake.

After a blessing like that, It feels like you really can have your cake and eat it too.

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Eyes Wide Shut

"Never be so focused on what you're looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find."

~Ann Patchett

For the last 10 years, my husband Tom has commuted from our home to his office in Vancouver, Washington. Leaving home on Monday morning, we had the exact same routine every week. He’d pack his bag the night before, get up early, shower, get dressed, have one cup of coffee, eat breakfast while we played one game of Backgammon, load up the car, take a travel mug of coffee, and head down our road. The routine was so familiar we could almost do it with our eyes shut.

From door to door that commute is exactly 88 miles, driven on the same stretch of road, along the same stretch of the Columbia River, in the same car. If it wasn’t so dangerous, he could almost do it with his eyes shut.

One day last year however, he almost drove off the road, and it wasn’t because he was sleepy or on auto-pilot. Quite the opposite, he was wide awake with his eyes wide open. Which is what allowed him to see this…

UNTOUCHED photo: Tom Pierson

UNTOUCHED photo: Tom Pierson

On auto-pilot, we might get where we are going, but completely miss the trip.

(For more inspiration about coming upon the unexpected, visit a recent post by David Berry complete with sound effects.)

Miracle


“There are only two ways to live your life: as though nothing is a miracle, or as though everything is a miracle.”

~ Albert Einstein

As the story goes, I was a miracle.

On October 12, 1953, I was born prematurely. Delivered by cesarean section and weighing in at less than three pounds, I wasn’t expected to survive the night. My dad called my sister Margie from the hospital to let her know that she had a baby sister, but they hadn’t given her a name yet, because they didn’t think she would live. (I’ve been trying to unpack that no-name thing for years.) It was Columbus Day, there was no school, and she and my two brothers were watching the World Series. She hung up the phone, told my brothers about my arrival, went into her room, got down on her knees, and prayed for me to make it.

Back at the hospital I was in an incubator, fighting for every breath, and it didn’t look good. The doctor who delivered me said to my dad, A good doctor doesn’t mind a second opinion, and so off they went to find one. As it turned out, one of his colleagues, a pediatrician, was on call at the hospital that night, and as they stood around my incubator, he mentioned a new experimental drug that might be of help, but it wasn’t on the market yet. Also as it turned out, the hospital had one sample bottle of the drug, a detergent mist developed to help little underdeveloped lungs clear of fluid. The mist from that one sample bottle filled my incubator, and my lungs emptied out. 

The next day they gave me a name.

I like to think that I had a miracle with my name on it, but then I think you do too. Life is so fragile that it is miraculous to make it from one minute to the next. As I blow out the birthday candles on this my 65th birthday, my wish is that you know that there is a miracle with your name on it, and that miracle is you.

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Great Question

“Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

~ Rainer Maria Rilke

Lewis Howes, a NYT bestselling author, lifestyle entrepreneur, former pro athlete, and host of The School of Greatness Podcast, asks his guests the same question at the end of every interview. He calls it Three Truths, and he sets the table for the question like this. He asks his guests to imagine (paraphrasing loosely here) that they are at the end of their lives, and, when they are gone all of their work will go with them. Whatever body of work they have created will leave the planet when they do. With this in mind, he asks them to share three things that they know to be true, and would want their loved ones to know.

What a great question!

Since I may not be invited to be on his show, I decided to pretend that I was one of his guests. We were at the end of the interview, and I imagined that I was at the end of my life, and my body of work was packed up and ready to head out into the great beyond with me. 

So Molly, what are the Three Truths you would want your loved ones to know?

We are all created in the image of God. However you define that force, at our core, we have a spark of that from which we came.

 We are all called to live authentic, wholehearted lives.

We are all called to love, help, and heal the world that is within our reach.

My prayer is that when the end comes, I won’t have to answer that question, because I will have lived my answers out loud.

What are your Three Truths?

(Written with gratitude for Lewis Howes and his good work and great question.)

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Just Twenty Minutes

Sometimes you just need a stupid-simple strategy. Here’s one.

When I left my first marriage, my young daughters and I moved in with my sister and her family. Our girls were all the same ages, she was a stay-at-home mom, and I had to go back to work right after we moved in. I’d leave for work early in the morning, and my sister was already at work when she woke up. While it might have been twice the love, it was also twice the little bodies, twice the energy, twice the  cooking, twice the tears, twice the noise, and twice the mess. We all agree that we wouldn’t trade that time for anything, but still....

Walking in the door one evening I could see that my sister was close to the end of her gracious rope. Surveying the household landscape strewn with evidence of another “fun” filled day, checking out the kitchen with no evidence of dinner in sight, and looking at my worn out sister with no evidence of a plan of attack, I said the only thing I could come up with:

Just twenty minutes. 

Twenty minutes later and with all hands on deck, the toys, books, splatter paints, My Little Ponies, and dress-up clothes were tucked away, the table was set, and dinner was underway. The 20 minute rule has been with us ever since. 

In just twenty mintues you can: 

Clean out your email

Schedule a hair cut, pedicure, dentist appointment, car tune-up, chiropractor appointment, and piano tuner. 

Make that phone call you’ve been putting off

Plan your week

Grocery shop  

Apologize

Write another paragraph of your manuscript

RSVP to an invitation, and order a birthday present for the party girl

Fold the laundry

Hold a productive meeting

Make a decision 

Write a blog

Apply for medicare

Fill-in-the-blank that you keep putting off

Life can be pretty daunting. Twenty minutes is not.

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Safe Is Overrated

  “Well, we are safe, even as we are as vulnerable as kittens,  because love, the riskiest thing we do, makes us safe.”

~ Anne Lamott, from her new book: Almost Everything

In C.S. Lewis’s classic, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Pevensie children find themselves in the magical land of Narnia after stepping through a door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic. Once there, they learn of Aslan, who is anything but a vulnerable little kitten. He is the fierce, gigantic, talking lion known as the King of Narnia, the King of Beasts, the Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The Sea.* He is powerful, wise, kind, just, and loving. All of those on the wrong side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. All of those who seek to stand on the same side of all that he stands for fear him, as rightly they should. He is, after all, the King of Narnia, King of Beasts, Lord of the Wood, and son of the great Emperor-Beyond-The-Sea.

Susan, the middle child of the four Pevensie siblings, has heard much of Aslan, but has yet to meet him. She has heard only of all the good that the powerful Aslan has done, and will do, and is excited at the prospect of meeting him. And, as you might imagine if you were going to meet a fierce, gigantic, talking Lion who reigns over all, you might be a tad bit nervous too. Hoping to allay her fears, she has a conversation with her new friend, Mr. Beaver. 

“Is he-quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion"..."Safe?" said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good. He's the King, I tell you.”

Safe is overrated.  

Being true to your convictions isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking your mind isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Adventures aren’t safe. But they’re good. 

Curiosity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Creativity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Meaningful work isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Authenticity isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Vulnerability isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Hard conversations aren’t safe. But they’re good.

Asking for help isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Raising your hand in a meeting isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Reaching across the aisle isn’t safe. But it’s good. 

Speaking truth to power isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

Asking for forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

Extending forgiveness isn’t safe. But it’s good.

And above all else... 

Love isn’t safe. But it’s good.  

When we go for safe, we will never get the chance to walk through the door in the back of a wardrobe that is stored in an attic, and find ourselves in a magical land. Not to mention the possibility of meeting a fierce, giagantic, talking lion. 

I’ll take good over safe any day.  

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* shmoop

Surf’s Up

 “The water’s waves are churned up by the winds, which come and go and vary in direction and intensity, just as do the winds of stress and change in our lives, which stir up the waves in our minds.” ~ Jon Kabbat-Zinn Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life

It is easy for me to take my emotions too seriously. Some more than others. You  might know the ones I mean. Anger. Fear. Guilt. Resentment. Grief. Regret. Anxiety. Boredom. Hit with one of those, and I am on board and riding that wave like a professional surfer. Whether it’s the curt email, a comment that hits me the wrong way, an inaccurate assumption, a missed expectation, the arrival of bad news, lack of sleep, lack of exercise, lack of food, lack of communication, or a lack of whatever I think shouldn’t be lacking, if not careful, I’m up on my emotional surfboard catching wave after wave. Unfortunatly, others can get dragged along in my wake.

Someone once told me that an emotion only lasts for 90 seconds, and that it is our stories and inner dialogue that keep it going. I haven’t tried to verify that assertion, so for now, let’s just take it as true, because on some level it strikes me that it is. Caught on a wave of emotion I can become my own artificial wave machine, generating waves like at those inland water parks for landlocked surfers.

I am learning that when another one hits, if I can score even 90 seconds, I can let that wave pass.

Not ignore the wave. 

Not fight the wave.

Not turn my back on the wave.

Just let wash up onto the beach, and then head back out to sea.

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CONFLICT - Extra! Extra! Read All About It!

“In conflict, be fair and generous.”

~Lao Tzu

Early in our marriage we were heading out for a family road trip. It always takes more than you think to get out of town, but the suburban was finally packed, the kids were in the car, and I was itching to get on the road. Just as we reached the top of our driveway, Tom noticed that we hadn’t brought in the daily newspaper and wanted to stop and get it. I wanted him to keep driving and forget it. The situation quickly devolved into a stand-off, with us arguing in the front seat. It was a great start to our vacation.

Finally, I got out and picked up the paper and headed back to the car. Looking at Tom through the window, I noticed that he had a satisfied smile on his face, like he thought he’d won. So I did an about face and hucked the paper for all I was worth into the hedge. I guess I showed him.

It was a quiet car ride for awhile, which gave me time to notice that his ears could actually turn red. We continued to stick to our own guns for the better part of the day, and as I remember, it was one of our first real fights.

Over a newspaper.

Of course that wasn’t really what it was about. Conflicts are rarely about “the thing, but about something deeper. Whether it’s a desire to be heard, understood, respected, seen, protected, acknowledged, or needing even a tiny sense of control, conflict boils down to more than winning or losing. Or at least it could.

Fast forward 10 years after the driveway showdown. My sister and I were  at the Oregon Coast with our daughters for our annual beach trip. The six girls ranged in age from 18-23, and this particular morning we were gathered around a table at Sleepy Monk (best coffee on the planet). A middle aged couple standing in line next to our table engaged us in conversation. As it turned out, he was a marriage and family therapist, and as we all chatted he learned that one of my nieces was engaged to be married that spring. This launched us all into a conversation about relationships and marriage. Because we were talking about relationships and marriage, the topic of conflict came up. Go figure. At any rate, he got very quiet, then he looked around the table and asked Girls, do you know what the purpose of conflict is? I can’t remember what they said, but I’ve never forgotten his answer

The purpose of conflict is connection.

If you are still reading this, I want you to find pen and paper and write those words down. Right now. Really.

The purpose of conflict is connection.

Now look at those words. Think about them. It isn’t a stretch to say that we’ve all of had an experience of conflict that produced anything but connection, and most of us don’t wake up in the morning and say, Gee. I hope I have a conflict today. Most of us don’t go looking for one. Most of us would prefer not to have one. Some of us will do almost anything to avoid one.

If you are still with me, I want you to pick up the pen again, this time in your non-dominant hand. The one you don’t write with, and write those same words down. Right now. Really.

The purpose of conflict is connection.

If you’re still with me, my guess is that it took you longer to write it that time. It might be kind of messy. Hard to read. Look kind of like when you first learned to write as a kid. It was probably very uncomfortable, awkward, and even a little painful. All of which sounds a whole lot like how conflict feels.

If you’re still with me, I know that you will always prefer to write with your dominant hand, but imagine if you were to write those same words, with your non-writing hand, ten times a day, every day for a month. You’d get better at it, and it would become a skill that would serve you when you needed it.

All of this to say, that the only way to get better at conflict is to practice it.

Now I’m not saying go out and rustle up some conflict so that you can practice. But, the next time something comes up, and it will, where you could step into the messy, uncomfortable, awkward, and maybe painful conversation, go ahead and dip your toe into the conflict waters. And do it with the intention, not of winning, or being right, or getting it over with, but with the intention of creating  a little more connection. Take the high road and listen deeply. Take the conversation seriously and yourself lightly. Seek to understand and then to be understood. Listen with the kind of genuine attention that you would like to be given. Speak as you would like to be spoken to. Remember to breathe. Be willing to hold on to your convictions and let go of your assumptions. Be authentic, vulnerable, brave and curious.

Conflict happens, and when it does, if we call on the very best of ourselves, connection happens too.

Hucking a newspaper into a hedge doesn’t really help. Although it’s really fun to see if you can make your husbands ears turn red.

ATG Phtography

ATG Phtography