I found these words jotted down in my inspiration file, sandwiched between quotation marks. I have no idea who said it or how it arrived there. I couldn’t even find it on Google. So I decided that this doesn’t matter. Wherever it came from, it was Right on Time, and it was for me. Because I’ve been thinking about strategizing a whole lot lately. For one thing, I notice that it’s a favorite activity for me and for many of my friends (and clients). After all, when people call me for coaching that’s often what they have in mind.
And it just so happens that strategy is one of my mind’s favorite things to do. It’s very good at it. There are many perks. My life is richer because of it. Way richer.
But when I look closer, I notice that it almost never works out when planning, strategizing and implementing come too early. Then they become the masters of the soul, not its servant. And masters, like captains of certain star ships, are totally dedicated to Making It So. They really don’t have the time required to listen to the inner directions of the shy soul.
If there were Ten Commandments of a life dedicated to success, the first three might be: thou must take charge, thou must plan things, and thou must make them happen. Again, it’s not that these aren’t excellent in their own place and time. They just belong a little later on the list. But the planning mind doesn’t like this. It can’t waste that time, after all, and the enemy of getting things done quickly is checking in with the soul.
It does take time to look inside, to find sabotaging habits, to unpack old beliefs, to clear the way for change. Checking in with ourselves was never the plan of our inner Efficiency Expert (first cousin of the Strategizer). This involves slowing down, sleeping on it, sitting with it. And this takes valuable time away from Making it So.
The Strategizer Within is chomping at the bit to just get going.
But first there’s that procrastination or resistance thing to overcome. Most of us have experienced the pain of getting caught in that bog. Sometimes the fear (or experience) of delaying action makes a bully of the strategizing mind. Its worst fear is confusion, which can come from believing those limiting thoughts that lurk below the surface.
The key to moving through the confusion is to check it out with the body. As Thomas Moore advises, this is where the soul usually speaks. If there’s urgency there, it’s the Bully. But f there’s hesitance, there may be a reason. Check with you. See if your quieter soul-self can tell you what’s stopping you, what limiting beliefs are keeping you from acting. Then question them. Ask you if they’re true.
This can take courage, but the soul knows courage. It also knows truth. And truth is kinder than the fiction that has created the beliefs. There may be still be fear, but there’s also a readiness, an exhilaration. This is the soul’s way of speaking, the still small voice of inner freedom. This you can trust.
As you follow the directions that come from this deep listening, the Strategizer becomes a servant of the soul. And action comes Right on Time.
What I notice is that there’s an undertow that will take us out and keep us from simply acting if we haven’t asked a good question or two to clear the way.
Ask yourself this: Have I asked me yet? Often as not, the answer is “sort of.” Because there’s a big rush of impulse to Just Do It, right? Take a dive into your body and listen some more. What feels like freedom? What lie am I believing that would keep me confused? What is truer? Then listen. Because the path to a freer and more juicy life lies in the stillness and the quiet answer.
There’s a little thing that has been going on with my heart these last months. They call it A-Fib, and without the boring details, let me say it’s been irregular. And sometimes a tad scarey. After having my heart stopped and started a couple of times, it’s now regular once again. Really. That’s what they do about this thing. My heart stood still. Stopped. And then it was rebooted. Literally (and I do mean this word as it was intended. It’s not a figure of speech).
That in itself is kinda amazing. But there’s bigger juju going on here. During the past year, my daughter Johanna was completing her fourth CD, the first one devoted entirely to sacred and inspirational music.
Some back story. My daughter and I are quite different. From the very beginning I understood this child would teach me what I needed to know about the world outside of books and thinking and being a brain. She’s one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met and has been through at least as much hard stuff in her life as I have. And I am (literally) twice her age. We attended the School for the Work of Byron Katie together ten years ago and have continued to disbelieve our thoughts and clear up our thinking on a regular basis.
So about the juju. Just as I am recovering my heart rhythm, she’s released a CD entitled Heart Beats One. The title song is quickly becoming an anthem because it’s so beautiful and catchy. She wrote it to describe what happens when humans come together; say, when we’re in a yoga class or listening to music. Our hearts (again, literally) begin to beat as one. Scientists call this entrainment. I call it the magic of belonging.
In the last few weeks I’ve been working with a biofeedback device on my phone (it’s called Inner Balance, and it’s from the HeartMath folks). But I’ve also been going to yoga, singing in groups, sharing meals and music with friends. Each one of these things can bring me to that Happy Place called entrainment.
But Johanna’s song “Heart Beats One” takes me there immediately. I know this because I’m measuring it. Here’s a link if you’d like a listen. (Warning: it’s addictive and you might want to add it to your collection).
I also talked about some of this in a radio interview, which you can listen to here:
And there’s even better news. If you’re one of my dear ones living on the West coast, Johanna may be at a yoga studio near you in the next couple of months as she launches the CD and teaches Lullaby Yoga from Seattle to LA and back to Oregon. I love it that my heart can beat again, in rhythm with yours, as we connect.
I was a child during the Pleistocene era, television was a new thing. Howdy Doody time was a special time for a whole generation, as we were clumsily ushered into the age of media by a freckled puppet (he had one freckle for every state, which meant that there were 48 back then).
One of the main characters on the show was an “Indian maiden,” Princess Summerfallwinterspring. Since the host was Buffalo Bob, presumably she was a part of the Wild West theme of the show.
From my current perspective I can see this with a critical lens. The commercial culture was minimizing the ancient wisdom of many tribes. I’m guessing her name was even intended as a spoof of the Native American connection with the Earth. But in my six-year-old imagination something took root, buried deeply, perhaps. I’m still a big fan of the turning of the seasons.
A couple of days ago, along with hundreds of people in my town and millions of people on the planet, The Super Blood Moon eclipse captured my imagination. It was an astronomical event that got more press than anything in my memory since the Total Eclipse of the sun in the early 1980’s. But it’s not the hype that got my attention. It’s the simple fact that so many people would gather to watch something so slow, so silent. That fact is as rare as the event itself, given the attention-grabbing, high-stimulation lifestyle most of us can’t really escape.
Only poetry can capture this, I thought. Then yesterday I shared dinner with some dear friends who are embracing the last few days of one of their lives as brain cancer takes its ultimate toll. Her birthday is this weekend. We remembered the fall season as a series of the birthdays we’ve shared in the process of aging together. The meaning of autumn, of the eclipse, of the seasons hit me in the center of my heart.
Maybe it was a visitation from the seasonal Princess of my childhood. But I was immediately hit with the connection between the loss of my friend and the autumn season. And at a deeper level I began to see autumn’s special moon as a way to mark the passage of time. Once again I was nourished by the rhythms of nature, when closely observed. When I returned, I found an ancient Chinese poem I’d nearly forgotten:
Ten thousand flowers in spring
The moon in autumn
A cool breeze in summer
Snow in winter.
If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things,
This is the best season of your life.
– Zen Master Wumen
May you bring the moon of autumn into your heart during this season of your life. Be here for it. And feel the richness of a life lived as it passes. Don’t let it pass without notice.
During my early years, 501 Levis were the only game in town. Shrink to Fit was their slogan then. It’s still their slogan. I was a roundish twenty-something, but I believed in their advertising. I desperately tried to see myself as a long, lean, hippie who could just slip into a random waist size and make it work around my thighs. Although the jeans didn’t fit me perfectly, the slogan did, in other ways. Having been raised in a large family, shrinking to fit has come easily. Too easily. It may work for denims (sometimes). But it’s not a great life plan.
The phrase has been running through my mind the last few weeks. During my daily self check-ins, planning my calendar, balancing my roles, working with clients, and talking with friends; it just keeps coming up. And as I’ve listened to my peeps during the last few years, I’ve discovered that this isn’t unique to me. It seems pretty ubiquitous. But my best point of reference is, as always, my own experience.
Here’s what I’ve noticed. If I’m not paying attention, there’s a tendency to make sure my plans fit others’ needs before my own. It’s so subtle it’s barely a whisper. And most of the time it works just fine. Because the reality is that I prefer peace and harmony to almost anything else. But I’ve often used my gift for blending in and making things fit as a short cut.
I’d be the last to dismiss compromise as a strategy. But I sometimes think I can read the mind of the other person and then simply fit into their thinking as I have imagined it. I’m not even stopping to ask me. But when I sit down to talk about a difference of opinion, having already compromised, I tend to take on more than is good for me, or I otherwise cut myself off at the knees. And when I’m not able to take care of all of me, I end up hurting others, because eventually I get resentful. And let’s just say it’s not pleasant to be me or to be around me when that happens.
The cost of being out of my personal integrity isn’t always immediately obvious. But over a lifetime it’s had a cost. The last couple of weeks I’ve been taking part in a class offered by one of my teachers, Martha Beck. She calls it the Integrity Cleanse. Her approach has been helpful in recognizing some of the places (or relationships) where my jeans are still tight.
The Cleanse is an extreme version of clearing out places where you’ve been shrinking to fit, and you can look it up next time it comes around, but there’s nothing that works better for me than noticing moment-to-moment. When I bring the light of awareness into the pattern, it shifts. This is where the magic resides, ultimately. And this is my invitation to you.
Notice where you shrink to fit in your life. Just notice. Where do you say “yes” to get along, even as your gut gets tight and you hear a little voice saying “no?” Pay attention. In the moment, you might do what you’ve done before, which is fine. Or you could buy some time by saying, “I’ll get back to you.” With that time, you’ll be able to get clear about what fits and what doesn’t, and you can take the next step toward your own truth. No drama is necessary. Just the kindness of truth and a voice that can begin to say, “that doesn’t fit for me.” From this simple act of courage, everything can change over time. I trust this process as much as I trust the water in the stream near here to wear down the rock. Truth (and integrity) have a power of their own.