August 2014

“I’m sorry!” Nancy exclaimed with a trembling voice.

Rose’s heart sank just a little. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Rose tried to explain. “Things change and our working together is a learning process. We’ve outgrown how we did things, and I’d like us to work together to set a new direction that works for us both.”

Try as Rose did to get Nancy on board with her intent, clearly Nancy had gone under. Nancy’s “sorry’s” kept her from being able to understand what Rose was aspiring toward. That’s common in improvement efforts – people hear a desire to grow and improve as criticism of how things are.

Nancy kept being sorry, and Rose started to feel sorry that she had raised the issue. Not that staying silent had been an option.

Rose understood the tendency to collapse, go unconscious and default into apologies. She recalled one client who had missed an appointment.

“I came on time for the appointment, but the door was locked,” the client complained.

Yes, just as she had told him it would be. Just as she told all her clients. The front door to the building stays locked and the back door remains open, so go in the back door and walk up the stairs. Bring my number with you in case you have any problems and I’ll come down to greet you.

So why had Rose apologized to him as if she had committed some egregious error? Even as her “sorry’s” came out of her mouth it felt backwards. If any “sorry’s” were in order, he should be apologizing to her. In fact, he should be offering to pay her for the missed appointment. Yet, Rose continued to say how sorry she was, even as something inside her screamed in protest to her self-betrayal. 

That was many years ago. Now, as Nancy apologized when she had done no wrong, Rose was tempted to apologize for hurting her feelings. But she refrained. Nancy had nothing to apologize for, and neither did Rose. They might not get through it in this conversation. But it was time for a change, and Rose knew that could be a process. Her heart hurt as the conversation came to it’s necessary close and Nancy told her, “I need to cry.” It was hard to let it rest there. Yet Rose trusted that their mutual respect and love would get them through to a new level. Eventually.

In earlier times, when someone came to the village elders with some kind of malaise, the wise women asked,

• When did you stop dancing? When did you stop singing? When did you stop listening to the birds chirp and watching the butterflies flit about on the flowers? When did you stop playing?

I learned this from my wise woman friend. She just returned from camping. We were riding home from dance. My friend loved the hour of conversationless, unscripted, community movement. 

My variations of the village elder questions are,

• When did you stop saying what you mean and meaning what you say without being mean when you say it?
• When did you stop doing the things that make you whole?

And…

• When will you start doing them again?

Want to bring an elder back to life? Play music from a powerful time in their lives. There is a documentary called Alive Inside about that. Here’s the trailer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVkrI1R0XjA

You don’t have to be seriously diminished for this to have power for you. Bob and I (and our cat Cindi) danced through the house to the band Iron Butterfly’s Inna Gadda Davida this morning. I don’t mind at all that Bob bonded with his first wife to that band and song. This morning we shared the energy it awakens with each other. 

Energy is energy. I like it.

Revisit my previous post, Stir Ashes, Find Embers. 

No need to wait until the light is almost out to stir the embers. There is buried treasure everywhere in our lives if we can recognize it. 

She’s a master manipulator, yet I love her. 

• She invites me in and then makes it difficult to connect.
• She elicits an invitation, and then stalls as if undecided.
• She approaches me and then turns away just short of reach. 

It took me a while to realize she was working me. It took me a while to conclude she liked the game. It took a while to stop playing her game.

Who is she? She’s my cat Cindi. Princess Cindi-rella. 

Cindi comes up as if she wishes to be petted. Half the time she enjoys the strokes. The other half of the time, she pulls back as soon as I reach for her.

Cindi stands at the edge of my reach when I attempt to brush her. Cindi looks at me invitingly. I extend myself. A few brush strokes into her brushing, I discover she has pulled away little by little and I am off my center reaching for her. 

Cindi stands at the door asking to be let out. Cindi stands there as long as I let her, as if deciding whether or not she wants to go out.

Cindi is really playing a game. Things are not as she wants them to appear.

My body told me before my mind did. My body knows what being manipulated feels like. 

Now, think of Cindi’s behaviors as metaphors. Do you know people who play games like this? I do. Like Cindi, I can’t convince them to stop playing their game. The game is too engrained.

But I CAN stop taking the bait. I can listen to my body when it tells me I’m being manipulated and I can stop putting myself out to help when they are only working me. 

Then I can love them without feeling manipulated.

Now excuse me while go brush my sweet cat. She’s a master manipulator, yet I love her. 

Have you heard Captain Ron Johnson’s powerful speech to the Ferguson Missouri community? I’ve been concerned about the militarization of our police force for a long time. It really hit me with Katrina when people who were seeking help in crisis were treated as criminals and suppressed with weapons of war.

There was darkness and overreach in Ferguson. There is also great beauty there. Captain Ron Johnson humbly gives voice to that beauty – and draws out the gorgeous humanity of the citizens there.

Watch it here.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlgsgasUzbk

The simple truth is incredibly powerful. Personal expression moves mountains. We are human – so human – and embracing that humanity is what will get us through our challenges intact. 

What moved me the most was Johnson’s affirmation that the tragedy of Michael Brown’s death would transform them all and make them better people. I know the biggest tragedies in my life have been my greatest teachers. It’s an incredible gift to be reminded of that while you are walking through your fire instead of figuring it out years later. 

Watch the video – he is a master of Speaking Strong.

Ouch!!! Yikes!!! I read this morning’s headline.

Ron Johnson DOES have his work cut out for him. At least I trust the wisdom of his captainship.

Tony put down the sheet of paper he was holding and leaned in toward his client. He said:

• I don’t know why you come to me. You know I treat the root cause of illness, and that means you probably will feel worse before you feel better while I take you through the die-off process. Yet, every time you start to feel bad you do something that stops the process. You say you want to learn from me, but you seem too intent on proving how much you know to listen. You don’t ask questions, you argue. You finish my sentences for me, and most of the time, your completion isn’t where I was going with my point. Yet, you tell me I’m helping you and you want to work with me. It seems to me that what you really want is a practitioner who will relieve all your symptoms and let you get on with your life without dealing with the root cause. It’s like the restaurant owners who get on Kitchen Nightmares because their businesses are failing, but try to teach Chef Ramsey how to run a restaurant.

Let that settle in for a minute.

There is a Japanese tale that illustrates the frustration of trying to work with someone who isn’t open to receive. It goes like this:

“The Japanese master Nan-in gave audience to a professor of philosophy. Serving tea, Nan-in filled his visitor’s cup, and kept pouring. The professor watched the overflow until he could restrain himself no longer: ‘Stop! The cup is over full, no more will go in.’
Nan-in said: ‘Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.'”

Sometimes when Tony confronts clients like this, it results in a conversation that gets them on the same page. Other times the client talks like he or she is ready to get on board and changes just enough to stay a client, much like the employee who only does good work before the performance review. There are times when the client argues that they really are on board and Tony needs to pull the plug unilaterally.

Then there are times when Tony and his clients jointly decide they aren’t a match. They dissolve the working relationship.

Do you have anyone in your world who says they want what you do? Someone who says they agree to your terms, but in practice they are redefining the relationship on their own terms?

Maybe it’s time to have a conversation like Tony does. For Tony, it’s the difference between loving his work and hating it. What difference might it make for you?

Rose was in the middle of watching the second season of The Good Wife. Now, resting on her bed, something struck her. The hero of the show, Alicia Florrick, was going through heart-wrenching devastation, but they never showed her cry. She was admirable, strong, succinct, tough – but she never collapsed into an emotional release. 

Rose remembered a movie she had seen years before where the hero, a television anchor, collapsed on her bed and cried every time she found herself alone. Then she pulled herself back together and focused.

Rose could keep it together if she needed to. But now she let down. She had felt blocked and lethargic. Now she sensed emotion and invited it to talk to her. It spoke, not in words, but in wails. She let it fly.

Her husband Tony heard her and came in to rub Rose’s feet as her emotions erupted. When did he stop feeling threatened by the power of her releases? Rose adored him for that. 

The tide turned, the storm subsided and Rose felt whole. She turned on Pandora radio: Christine Perri’s song Human came on. Unlike Alicia, but like Christine, Rose could be a good machine, but let herself be human.

These are the lyrics. 

Human

I can hold my breath
I can bite my tongue
I can stay awake for days
If that’s what you want
Be your number one

I can fake a smile
I can force a laugh
I can dance and play the part
If that’s what you ask
Give you all I am

I can do it
I can do it
I can do it

But I’m only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I’m only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
‘Cause I’m only human

I can turn it on
Be a good machine
I can hold the weight of worlds
If that’s what you need
Be your everything

I can do it
I can do it
I’ll get through it

But I’m only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I’m only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
‘Cause I’m only human

I’m only human
I’m only human
Just a little human

I can take so much
‘Til I’ve had enough

‘Cause I’m only human
And I bleed when I fall down
I’m only human
And I crash and I break down
Your words in my head, knives in my heart
You build me up and then I fall apart
‘Cause I’m only human

And the video: (Al – no vampires on this one.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2X43XF8247E 

Maybe, by the time Rose got to season five of The Good Wife, Alicia would break down and have a good cry. If so, would Peter (or Will) be able to rub her feet and be there with her when she did? In the meantime, Rose would live her humanity now. 

You’re invited to this party. Speaking Strong and authenticity isn’t just about being tough all the time. It’s also about honoring your right to be human. Rose’s emotional alchemy moved by it’s own path, not a linear one, but this is a good tool should you want one. Emotional Alchemy Through the “Love Letter”

When I like what a teacher teaches, I yearn to see how the teacher walks. I learn more from experiencing how someone lives than from hearing them talk about life principles. Some people talk a great, line but don’t walk the talk.

That’s why many of my best teachers aren’t officially teachers at all. Like Fred, our mail carrier. As he drives from mailbox to mailbox, I hear him whistle.

No intense driving rock and roll blasting from his radio. Just a whistle.

When people recommend teachers to me, I want to know – does he (she) whistle?