Luck or ?

Saturday afternoon I was driving with my husband, just knocking around, seeing what we could see. We decided to take back roads and drive north as much as possible. A GPS is a great tool for this sort of meandering road trip. We Lucky Dicewere enjoying the 60 degree day and the sun which had been absent far too many days this winter. So we drove, feeling the sun’s warmth, looking at houses, trees, small towns. I was happy and thought to myself, “How lucky I am!”

As soon as the thought registered I noticed a certain unease. “I’m lucky now but this could go away. Lucky could become unlucky.” It was subtle but luck suggested that what I do doesn’t matter. That a roll of the dice determines outcomes. It was “just luck.” Really?

I decided to shift to “I’m grateful: grateful for my husband, the warm sun, the car with a sun roof, the ability to take off and drive for the sheer fun of it.”  This felt totally different. Appreciating what I had in the moment made it richer. I felt richer. I was richer.

How we think matters. To think of ourselves as “just lucky,” is to discount the power Soaring-Eagle-1-300x182of our own imaginings, our thoughts, intellect and choices. These are the tools we’re born with to co-create our lives on earth. How we think about something actually changes our experience of it. Words matter. Would you rather be lucky or grateful?

We are co-creators, learning to live more skillfully.

The .04 difference

In .04 seconds, what can happen?

A  smile;
A knife cut;
A bee sting;
A “thank you” said;
You’re on or off  the podium.

Last night in the Women’s Olympic Skeletal event, Katie Uhlaender, United States, lost the Bronze medal to Elena Nikitina, Russia, by 0.04 seconds; that’s 4/100 of a second.

Elena Nikitina, Bronze

In what seemed like an eye blink, Katie, a great athlete, was off the podium.

World class athletes are used to winning or losing by seconds. Competing at that level, they know everything counts. They train and give their all knowing some small movement, a sudden wind, a distraction, rough spot, or something else they can’t control could make the .04 difference. Yesterday it did and Elena, another great athlete, won.

It made me wonder, where in my life could there be a “.04 difference”?  And more importantly, how would I go forward when it happened? Uhlaender vowed to rebound.

Katie UhlaenderKatie Uhlaender

Here’s to great athletes everywhere! Who keep doing what they love. Sochi Olympics, February, 2014

 

 

Talent to be managed?

In a recent Forbes article, HR Managers were advised to focus on “talent management.”  Sounds reasonable given the information age, internet and the competitive need for creativity, but I find myself asking,  “Who wants to be treated as talent to be managed?”

It reminds me of  factory workers in the early 1900’s who were seen as extensions of the machine to be optimizedCoolClips_busi1720 Although the world has changed, articles like Forbe’s suggest we are still seeing employees as “cogs in the organizational machinery,” talented cogs to be sure, but cogs. And therein lies a problem.

As long as HR Managers (and senior Leaders) see people as company assets to be optimized, we’ll continue to create environments that kill the human spirit. Employees will remain disposable parts, abstract concepts to be planned for, controlled and manipulated. CEOs and organizational hierarchy will continue to see themselves separate from the “masses.”

But different models are emerging, each the result of the beliefs, personal passion. and unique circumstances of their creators. In each example people are, well people, not assets. index

Here are some of my favorite out-of-the-box examples: Ricardo Semler’s Maverick: The Success Story Behind the World’s Most Unusual Workplace, Tony Hsieh’s story of Zappo’s Delivering Happiness: A Path to Profits, Passion, and Purpose, Phil Jackson and Hugh Delehanty’s Sacred Hoops: Spiritual Lessons of a Hardwood Warrior, and  Jack Stack’s The Great Game of Business, Expanded and Updated: The Only Sensible Way to Run a Company.


Am I my books?

It started when my husband needed to replace an electrical outlet behind one of my two crammed bookcases. I emptied all the books into the middle of my office floor so the bookcase would be light enough to move away from the wall. IMG_0668

When it was time to move the books back, I decided I should go through them and pare down.  As for criteria, I would consider: Do I refer to them? Will I re-read them?  Sounded simple enough.

But when I turned to the pile I froze. Some of these books influenced me greatly.  I was sentimental about them. “Molecules of Emotions” by Candice Pert, “The Mind of the Strategist” by Kenichi Ohmae,  Marvin Weisbord’s “Organizational Diagnosis,” “Everyday Miracles” by David Spangler,  “Focusing” by Eugene Gendlin, M.Scott Myers’ “Every Employee a Manager,  “How to make Meetings Work” by Doyle and Straus. There were Enneagram books, coaching books, self-help books, Spiritual books.

My fondness for these physical books made me wonder what magical powers I’d attributed to their printed pages. In a sense, these books defined me. Sitting on shelves, they were visible signposts of my journey through life.  I appreciated their gifts. They seemed like faithful friends.

But going through them, I realized that over the years I’ve incorporated their ideas into my own understanding and way of working. I didn’t need them any more as testimony to my own learning, nor as talismans against my own deficiencies.DSC02945 I began to appreciate what I now knew; the knowledge I carried within me. It was not only OK to let the books go, it was time. So I sorted and got sacks ready to take to Half Priced Books.

May someone else find them as helpful as I did.

I almost gave up

I was excited about creating  a new fireplace mantle.

After my epiphany in February, I started calling masons, stone workers, even outside garden designers. I stopped in any place that remotely stained mantle-Version-2looked like they could do stone work.  But I found that no one was interested in tackling this sadly stained fireplace.   I explored fireplace facings, but none were designed to cover the length of the wall as our mantle did. I began to see my hopes of a mantle I really liked fade. I was running out of options.

Finally Tom, a brick works chimney guy, responded to my queries. He was a burly guy sporting a substantial beard and wearing overalls. He seemed a “no frills” but reliable type.  He said, “For two hundred I can replace the middle limestone piece.” I thought, “Well, I haven’t had much luck finding any other approach. It would be cheap and get rid of the stain.” I said, “Put me on the schedule.” He said he would.  Then, I never heard from him again.

Dismayed, there was more searching, calling and asking around.  Gary was a construction-type handyman. He asked me to send him some pictures. Excited, I sent my best iPhone shots. He emailed back and said for $600 he’d replace all three 4.5 ft top sections. “It was a better way to go,” he said, “since new stone wouldn’t necessarily match.”  OK, this would at least get me back to how the mantle originally looked, better than nothing.  “Put me on your schedule.”  I never heard from him again.

By now 6 months had passed and I was discouraged. “It will never get fixed!” I thought as I sullenly stared at the stained mantle. I never liked the mantle. It wasn’t particularly attractive and the top was too narrow to easily put things on. I sighed! Should I just leave it? If we ever sell the house the new owner could tear it out.

It was then I realized I’d drifted from creating a fireplace mantle I’d like, to desperately trying to find someone, anyone,  who could make the stain go away.  I was no longer creating.  My frustration pushed me into reacting against; getting rid of the stain. I refocused. I didn’t know how to make it happen but I wasn’t going to give up on a beautiful mantle. I could feel my energy shift. I was feeling lighter and more adventurous.

Once again I spent time Googling everyone from masons to decorative rock folks. But this time I was open to alternatives. A friend’s brother had just redone his flagstone fireplace and recommended Don Weiss, the guy he used.

I looked up Don’s website. He did creative tile art. His work was beautiful so I called. From the start his energy was different. He really looked at the mantle. He looked at the damage and the whole wall. He recommended a limestone facing.  I was almost disappointed it wasn’t tile but thought, “Well, give this a chance.” He sent me drawings of the pieces he’d need and a price tag of $900.

Looking at the drawings I couldn’t figure out how it would come together. I made a cardboard mock up that looked bulky and stuck out way too far.  I emailed him with my concerns. He came back to the house and explained that there would be a curve in the front piece that would mirror the cove ceiling. He assured me it wouldn’t stick out too far. He had an artistic touch no one else had and I trusted him. We agreed to go ahead.

He fit me into his schedule and arrived with one of his workman. DSC02939 Two days later it was finished. It was beautiful!  Not only did I like it, I loved it!

DSC02942I was reminded again of the power of creating something you want vs. reacting to what you don’t like: the importance of holding your vision even when you don’t know how it’s going to happen; of not giving up!

Creating works!

Would you have been irritated?

girl-waiting-mdThe examining rooms were all filled. My husband and I were waiting for the eye Doctor to arrive, to peer into his eyes and decide if all was well. I couldn’t shake the cattle car feeling. We were waiting to optimize his schedule not ours. I was irritated, very irritated.

How many of you would say, “Of course, I hate when Doctors do that”? From one perspective this response is understandable. However, from a creating perspective, it doesn’t. I was allowing circumstances to determine my experience of life. Would I choose to sit around and be irritated? Would I choose to put that negativity though my body. No!

I thought waiting meant that we weren’t important enough.  I had the expectation that a caring Doctor wouldn’t have us wait. I was judging and taking the whole thing personally.

I could have been aware of the situation without judging and without taking it personally. I could have decided how I wanted to be (e.g, relaxed) and then decided if there was something I needed to do (e.g., go out and ask when he might be coming, express my concern if I really had to get out of there by a certain time, get something to read, meditate ).

As a co-creator of life, I  know that the quality of my life, my life experience, is my choice. What am I choosing now? What are you choosing?

 

I killed two butterflies and a Cardinal

butterflyDriving home through the country, a butterfly flew too close to the car. Sucked in by the car’s momentum, it hit the car and died. Miles down the road it happened again. I hated that I was a part of these fragilenorthern_cardinal_1, beautiful creatures’ demise.

Then, a few days later coming home from a meeting, a Cardinal flew into my windshield. The loud crack let me know it couldn’t have survived.

Stunned, I wondered if these events were connected;  a message from the Universe that I was supposed to understand. That to be alive means that at times we inadvertently kill things? That life is fragile? That I can’t ultimately protect the people and things I care about?

Or, maybe it’s that things just happen; what is, is? The Universe gently letting me know that I’m not always in control of what happens, but I can always choose how I respond to it?

At the end of the day I settle for compassion and a sense of awe at the beauty and fragility of life.   Tomorrow? Who knows.

I want the flowers NOW!

I keep staring at them, willing them to shoot up their yellow flowers. I want the color but my garden is taking its own good time. It’s still May, too early for most of the perennial flowers, especially these Western Sunflowers, to bloom. I’m feeling impatient.photo-2

Spring has been here forever.  I want warmer weather and the richness of the harvest. Silly of course, and just a passing emotional storm  Yet I’m aware that in our world of instant messaging, it’s easy to lose touch with the natural rhythm of things.

Waiting is seen only as a delay. Defining goals suddenly slips into a dissatisfaction with what we have now. Being where you are seems not enough. You forget to appreciate and enjoy what is.

Fortunately I can laugh at my impatience. It too will pass.

I walk back into the house remembering that now is the only moment I have.  And, I smile.

The branches were bare!

Thursday. I planted the lovely little Red Chokeberry bush.

Saturday. I went to see how it was doing. There were no small white flowers, no delicate green leaves; just bare branches. The deer had dined!deer

All day I mourned the loss of this pretty little plant with its bird friendly berries. I struggled with whether I should replace it. Might it grow back? What would I need to do to keep the deer away?

Sunday. I began to think that this was a gentle wake up call. It was a reminder that I’m part of a bigger system, and not totally in control. There’s other life, with other priorities. A garden is not only about aesthetics, it’s also about lunch.

I had to decide what to do. Do I fence in the shrub? Buy something more deer resistant? Spray noxious concoctions to discourage the deer eating.  Do I walk away and grow flowers?  Somehow I think it is important for me to accept the fact that deer roam the city streets.  We’ve not found a way to coexist with the wild life that inhabits our cites. Is this natural? Well, at the moment it just is.

I don’t want to do battle. I don’t want everything I grow to be fenced in.
So, I’m planting a Molly Schroeder Viburnum, less tasty to deer. This new shrub will remind me I’m not alone on the planet. It’ll be a humble reminder that I’m part of something bigger and that my desires aren’t the only ones that count.

Monday. I’m posting this. It’s one of many lessons I’m getting about the systems we are a part of.  I don’t want this post to be a diatribe about too many deer in our cities.  It’s really a love poem to the complexity of life.

I said, “It made me cry.”

As I watched, the tears came. It was a video a friend had sent me. When I told my friend I cried he got concerned, and said he wouldn’t send any more of those kinds of videos.

He thought my tears were a bad thing. But really, they were the kind that come when you ‘re caught unaware and, unbidden, your heart just opens. You deeply appreciate someone’s courage, their caring, their pain, their openhearttriumph…

This is very different from becoming distraught, worried  or distracted by another’s experience. This is about genuine caring: witnessing what is and not pushing it away, appreciating the human experience without getting lost in it.

Crying when your heart opens is like going through a doorway to a place where the “we vs. them” disappears. It’s true love and appreciation. 

An open heart, even with tears– it’s a good thing.