Posts Tagged: Radical kindness

Change on Unseen Levels

in Getting Unstuck, Noticing, Radical Kindness

I’ve become more and more aware of how change shows up in the last few years, working with dozens of clients and mentoring many of them over an extended period of time.
What one principle emerges from this work? This: Change happens on unseen levels first. I learned early on that focusing on a problem (say, weight loss or clutter clearing) as a first focus just doesn’t usually work. Yes, there may be improvement out front, but it usually doesn’t last. That’s the not-so good news.

Married to Amazement: Geneen Roth Retreat

in Getting Unstuck, Radical Kindness

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.”

These lines by poet Mary Oliver were a theme threading through the retreat with Geneen Roth. Although I’d read the poem many times before, it was a qualitatively different experience to sit with the words, to drop into deep amazement. This morning the state that they invoke feels like the biggest “takeaway” from the event.

From a place of amazement I drop into deep curiosity about what my unique body and self are doing here in this life.

Refreshing Your Screen

in Getting Unstuck, Radical Kindness

One important thing I learned about cyberland is that you have to refresh the screen when you return to a site you’ve visited before. This allows you to see changes that have occurred while you’ve been doing other stuff.
The same is true for the process of change. If I don’t refresh, I run the same old loops, have the illusion of being stuck. For me, refreshing the screen means pausing, checking in, noticing that things aren’t the same. How could they be? It’s simply not possible.

Always We Begin Again

in Getting Unstuck, Radical Kindness

These are the opening words from the Rule of St. Benedict. I’m not a Catholic, but I owe so much peace and clarity to my training in spiritual direction with the sisters of a nearby monastery. These words continue to remind me, each morning, of possibility.
Especially when I’ve fallen off the wagon filled with my best intentions the night before. It hardly matters what I did, but let’s just say I let myself down when I unconsciously ate half a bag of chips at midnight. In the past this kind of thing has given me enough proof of hopelessness to pull me off the wagon for good, a rebellious child running wildly amok, with no regard for the future.

Groundhog’s Day and the Same Old Loops

in Getting Unstuck, Radical Kindness

I awoke today thinking about how appropriate the movie Groundhog’s Day is to the patterns I experience this time of year. My new year’s resolutions have begun to wear off, just when I was noticing some success. My mind is a little more peaceful, my body is a little lighter, and then I get a “Change Back Attack” sending me back into the same old loops of thinking and eating and living that inspired the resolutions in the first place.
Today I’m deciding to REALLY wake myself up from the movie. So I’m going to the ancient wisdom of the Celtic religions. Today is also known as Bridget’s Day or Imbolc, because it’s exactly between the shortest day of the year (Solstice) and the Spring Equinox, when days and nights are equally balanced.

When am I a tap-dancing clown?

in Radical Kindness

I saw the new year in again this year with Byron Katie and friends at an annual event called the Cleanse. I think of it as a thought cleanse, and I’ve been “cleaning” thoughts ever since. I have so many opportunities, I notice, as I watch my knickers get all twisted and do a little research to find what I’m believing, always a lie.

One of the biggest fibs that continues to cause stress in my world is that I need everyone’s approval. Not just some people. Everyone. And if I don’t get it….let’s just say I’m not listening to my inner voice when I believe I should. I try harder to entertain, to make nice, and I lose my most precious inner self in the process.

Katie used an image that struck me when she asked when we turn into tap-dancing clowns for approval. I could easily see all the times in my life that I abandon myself and become a caricature of myself so that “they” will approve.

Nowadays it’s more subtle than it was when I was younger, but it’s still there. It’s a subtle kind of ruthlessness. I’m so curious to notice when the tap dancer shows up and find out what else is more true than my act. I have a hunch it will be much kinder to myself than my tap-dancing routine.

Giving Up Ruthlessness for the New Decade

in Radical Kindness

It’s taken me a while to write my first entry for the new decade because I wanted to come to a clear intention that was deeply true from my core. So instead of giving myself of lists of admirable goals, I looked for something truer to emerge.

Here it is. 2010 is the year I’m giving up on ruthlessness with myself. I’ve looked at the belief that I need to change, and wherever I met it, there was the old demon of self-judgement…and ruthlessness, just over its shoulder.

I’m deeply curious about what Love has in mind for me this year. When I see that, I see a kinder world. A deep curiosity about what would change if I lived this resolution. I like that. What would that look like for you?

Compare this to your first list and revise.

Octogenarian Observations

in Radical Kindness

This week I’m leading a service to celebrate the life of a dear friend and an inspiration, Connie Foulke.  An ardent teacher, parent, and community leader, Connie was one of my reference points for how to live a good life for over thirty years.  A while ago she organized a group of “young friends” (most of us were only in our late 50’s, after all) for lunch and tea.  Our honored leader even gave us a name:  the Pleiades, and she requested we each choose a the name of one of the stars of the constellation, research the mythology behind it and select one that fit. After all, Google was a wonderful invention that would help us out.  Connie was that kind of thoughtful. That kind of thorough. She was what used to be called “a class act.”

When I turned sixty  I flew back to Kansas City for a gathering of high school friends who were also celebrating that passage.  I asked Connie to give some advice to those of us twenty years behind.  She was rather frail at that point, and I expected her to dictate  a couple of lines over the phone.  Not Connie. What I got was a call, four or five days later, that I should come and pick something up. When I opened the bag Connie had left for me, there was  a double-sided page of thoughts in an ornate old English font, printed on fine parchment-style paper.  The title was “octogenarian observations.”

I’ve been inspired for a year by her well-honed life, and her careful advice. I thought about excerpting this and sharing it in pieces because there’s so much wisdom that it’s hard to digest in one sitting.  Then I decided to post it as it is, in its entirety.  It’s such a testimony to a brilliant mind, a wise heart, and a generous heart.  Not to mention a model of conscious aging that I continue to find helpful. Here it is:

Octogenarian Observations

Laugh a lot, even when it hurts.  You’ll feel lighter for it.

Forget the feeling that you’ve forgotten something.  If it’s really important, it will eventually sneak back.  If not, so what?

Listen to classical music.  It will soothe your soul and envelop you in peace.

Consume quantities of chocolate!  There is never too much.

Dump people, possessions and practices you don’t want or need any more.

People:  “Remove from your life those who offer you depression, despair and disrespect.” (Nikki Giovanni)

Practices: give up compulsions.  For example, if you don’t enjoy sending Christmas cards, quit.  I did two years ago.

Love and enjoy your children and grandchildren on your own terms.

Be grateful!

Drink plenty of water.  It is good for your innards and keeps you active with frequent journeys to the bathroom.

Take the phone of the hook if you want to nap or read undisturbed.

Wear whatever suits your fancy, new or old.  But comfortable.

Use lovely perfume and enjoy your own scent.

Take your favorite jewelry out of the box and wear it for your own enjoyment.  (You didn’t acquire it to keep it in the box.)

Nap frequently and enjoy your dreams!

Damn the clock.  Keep your own time.  Get out of bed when you feel like it and stay up as late as you wish.  (But to be on time for appointments and engagements that involve others.)

Spend time on crossword puzzles and Sudoku to challenge your brain and enjoy the success of solution.

Eat quantities of fruits and vegetables, especially local produce.

Travel–actually, via TV or film, or in remembrance of things past.

Sometimes hang out with young people; their energy and enthusiasm may be contagious.  It is surely uplifting.

It’s OK to need a little help.  Use a cane or someone dependable to lean on.

Peruse old photo albums and vicariously enjoy fond memories.

Look at the clouds, the sunrises and sunsets, and MARVEL over creation.

Occasionally retreat into your shell and look at the iridescent nacre inside, like highlights in your life.

Believe in what’s good.

Vote for Obama; he’s the hope for the future of our beloved country.

Finally, as Micah said, Do justly, Love mercy, walk humbly with thy God.

A Listening Life

in Radical Kindness

Yesterday I had the honor and privilege to be coached by Terry, very talented coaching friend with whom I trade coaching sessions.  It was such an amazing experience to switch roles and find out first-hand what it’s like to be held in listening (and questioning, of course).  My intention in calling her was to make some business decisions, so I thought of the call as a straightforward problem-solving session.  At least that’s what my ego (aka social self) had in mind.

That’s how much my “I know” mind knows.   I knew what my problem was, and all I needed was a little information.  I knew what I wanted and all I needed to find out was how to get there. I thought I knew.  As we talked (or rather I talked and she listened and asked questions), I gradually saw how little I had been listening to myself, my essential self. It’s humbling to admit this publicly, since I teach other people how to do this and listen to their lives all day long, asking questions and offering suggestions.  But I simply hadn’t been listening to my life.

In less than an hour, my world shifted radically.  I not only heard what my deepest Self longs for, which never changes, really. But I experienced the magic and power of coaching, first hand.  I now know inside-out what my clients tell me when they make a shift after a session.  My inner world was whispering, then talking louder.  And I hadn’t been listening.   Starting now  I’m re-committing to a Listening Life.

Where do you listen to your life and when do you fight what you hear?  What beliefs keep you from listening?  I noticed my belief had to do with taking care of others’ needs first. My essential self wouldn’t let Notice what your inner life whispers.  If you miss it, it will talk louder.  That’s how we develop a Listening Life. I’ve noticed my own life is far kinder when i do listen.  See what you notice.

Right on Time Living

in Confusion to Clarity, Radical Kindness

Isaiah Jones, a black gospel musician and preacher  who was  raised in East St. Louis,  somehow showed up here in our Northwest college town in the mid-1990’s.  He started a gospel choir which was 99% white. And therefore remedial.  It took us about two years to figure out how to sway together to the rhythm, which still resided way more in our heads than our bones. Isaiah was our director, accompanist, and a frequent soloist.  When the Spirit moved him, which was wildly unpredictable to us, he would jump up and prance into the audience to give Love Hugs. Even though he was an ordained Presbyterian minister, this particular habit was a bit suspect at first.  But the good liberal church people would never want to offend the town’s one black minister, so at first they played along. Later, they began love-huggin’ each other on their own.

He was that kind of infectious.

A friend tells a story about Isaiah. He had come to dinner at her place, everyone had pushed their chairs back after the meal, and a peaceful lull suffused the room.  She went to the kitchen and came back with an apple pie.

“That pie is right on time,” Isaiah drawled.

With Isaiah, the pie would have been right on time, no matter when it arrived.  He lived in a Right on Time World.  He even answered his phone, “God is SO good.  ALL the time.”  It meant things were just as they should be.  No rush.  Miracles like apple pie could show up any time, and so would spring, babies, and other natural wonders.  But if the world was always  right on time, if the way of things was always good, I began to notice, other life events would need to be re-considered.

I started to apply the mental state of Right On Time to disasters in my life: a friend’s accidental drowning, a house fire that nearly killed my son.  In the increased focus that can occur during such events, no doubt with ample amounts of adrenaline and Grace, it’s a challenge to find the goodness.  I began to keep a list of how these tragedies could possibly be right on time, if not good.  Then I looked for evidence of possible goodness in all the fear and pain. Gradually the list grew.  How did I know who was being helped or inspired by the community of love and support that sprung up around us?  Who learned about the dangers of fly fishing without a belt?  Who checked for a smoke alarm in their apartment?  The possibilities just kept unfolding.

I also noticed that when one’s world has been turned upside down, all one can do is operate Right on Time.  One decision.  This one. Then the next.  Otherwise it would be too much. I began to notice that taking each step right on time built a substrata on which I could walk.  It created a foundation for coping. Read More>>