The Power of a Story

The other day I was working from my home office when I noticed a man in my back yard.   I figured perhaps he was a meter reader from the utility company and went over to the window to get a better look.  He was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, and a large straw hat whose wide brim angled toward the ground.  In his hand was what looked like a window washer with a squeegee on the end.  He looked all around our back yard, glanced over to the back fence, and then proceeded out our front gate.  An unsettling feeling came over me as I began to realize there was a very good possibility this man had no business on our property.

I watched as he walked over to a maroon minivan and slouched into the driver’s seat with the door open, waiting, his foot kicked up and resting on the open window.  Peering out my living room window, I strained to see if I could make out the license plate.  The letters were fuzzy and I couldn’t quite discern them.  So I grabbed an envelope to take to the mailbox thinking that from there I could get a better look and scribble down the letters and numbers on the paper.  As I walked toward the end of the driveway, the man quickly closed the car door, started up the engine and drove away.  I began to run – trying one more time to get a look at the license plate, but the car just went faster.

My heart was beating wildly. I sent emails to my neighbors  encouraging them to make sure their gates, doors and windows were locked and to be on the lookout for the red van that I saw.  A few minutes later, I settled back into my study only to glance out the window and see the red van again – this time across the street, with the door propped open, and the same man I saw in my back yard sitting in the driver’s seat waiting.

Still looking out the window, I picked up the phone and dialed 911. I did my best to describe the man to the dispatcher and relay the details of my experience and felt a wave of relief when I saw two squad cars roll up behind the van.  A policeman walked over to the man and the two of them talked.  A few minutes later the officer called to inform me that the man in my back yard was from the irrigation service that comes twice a month to open and close the valve that brings water into our yard.

And then I felt the sting of embarrassment and humiliation followed by feelings of regret and sympathy for this poor man who was just interrogated by the police while doing his job in triple digit heat in Phoenix, Arizona.  Compounding my  foolishness was the fact that my husband and I have actually met this man and had a conversation with him.  He was warm and kind and gave us advice on how to properly irrigate our back yard after having some work done there.  I even remembered that his name was Tom.

As the police got back into their cars I walked across the street to thank them and apologize to Tom.  “I am so sorry,” I told him sheepishly.  “I didn’t recognize you and I was scared.”  Tom’s mouth widened into a smile that revealed a few teeth missing.  He laughed as he told me, “You wouldn’t believe how many times people have called the police on me.  Don’t worry about it.”  It was then that I realized that  the window washer I thought he was holding in his hand was actually an irrigation tool.  I explained to him that what really alarmed me was that he drove away as I was running after him.  Turns out he never even saw me – just realized that he was starved and had exactly five minutes to run and get something to eat before the next valve had to be closed.

We had a very nice conversation in the minutes that followed.   His eyes sparkled as we talked about his work, his three sons – one of which was having a birthday that day, and his relaxed, let life happen as it comes philosophy.   As I walked back toward my house, I realized the power our fearful stories have over our behavior and the way things play themselves out in our lives.  I had experienced firsthand the distortion of reality caused by faulty information my mind filled the blanks in with as a result of my fear and panic.  I took very few data points and wove them together to create a worst case scenario that had me acting as though it was true.  And none of it had to do with Tom himself – only the story I created based on what I was believing about my limited observations.

I can’t help thinking about how that dynamic plays itself out every day of our lives.  We all take in limited information and we all create stories about what it means. Most of us tend to operate as though those stories are true.    And other people do the same thing when it comes to their observations of us.  It was a wonderful reminder to always entertain the thought that perhaps I don’t always have all the pieces of the picture or every detail relevant to the story.

It also made me realize the importance of not taking personally the sometimes perplexing or inexplicable reactions others may have to me – to keep an open mind, and an open heart, like Tom did. To remember that things aren’t always what they seem – and people are not always who we think they are.  And to entertain the possibility that at any moment circumstances can change from being frightful to delightful – if I am willing to look beyond what my eyes and my mind are telling me to see what is really there.

Copyright Synchronistics Coaching & Consulting 2010.  All rights reserved.

If you liked this post, you may enjoy other articles written about Navigating Through Change, Challenge & Uncertainty. Download these and others for free at www.DianeBolden.com/solutions.  While you are there, you can subscribe to receive a new feature article each month.  You will also receive my free report on 10 Traps Leaders Unwittingly Create for Themselves – and How to Avoid Them.

Life’s Wake Up Calls

Several years ago I was rushing around trying to get somewhere quickly while worrying about what felt like a million things that were competing for attention inside my head.  And then suddenly I felt the impact of a collision and the somewhat distinctive scent of burnt powder being released by the air bags in my car as my body was thrown into one of them.  Just like that, everything stopped.  And hours later, I sat in the passenger seat of a tow truck staring back at the crushed metal of the sports car I had purchased two months prior as my gaze went from the bed of the tow truck to the vehicles on the road below, each filled with people hurrying and scurrying to their destinations.  It was as though I had been yanked from my own frenetically chaotic routine and made to sit still while I objectively observed that same mindless mania from a distance.

Earlier this week, I sat in a cardiovascular intensive care unit watching my husband recover from the seven plus hour surgery he had just endured.  I felt a strangely similar sense of having been removed from the somewhat banal yet seemingly urgent tasks that tend to occupy my days and directly inserted into something that led me to feel as though time had somehow come to a complete halt.  It was as though the volume on all the background noise in my life had been somehow silenced to allow the most integral parts to have their solo.  Knowing that he was unconscious, but hoping he could somehow hear my voice or feel my presence, I realized words were completely inadequate to capture how I felt about him at that moment anyway – even if he could hear them.

All the craziness of the previous weeks somehow went away and everything that only one day before seemed so pivotal no longer even shared the same scale.  Life’s momentous events have a way of trumping everything else in such a way that we question what it was we were so worked up about before anyway.  And in these critical moments it seems the most vital things take on a razor-sharp focus.  We remember what is really important.  It’s as though we have been granted some kind of highly sophisticated vision that allows us to instantly and almost unconsciously differentiate the significant from the trivial.  We feel that which we know in our hearts with such strength and magnitude that it almost bursts right out of us.

As I looked around others in the ICU – patients as well as their family members, I realized that in these places, people are at their rawest and most human.  There are no facades, no airs, no agendas.  And it isn’t just the gowns that leave people feeling exposed.  We are ripped wide open in such a way that we come face to face with our very essence.  In these moments, life takes on new meaning.  These gut wrenching experiences that cut us to our cores give us the gift of returning us to our cores – so that we can remember how strong we really are, and come back to that which gives us true strength.  We awaken to what is most real within us and find the ability to connect to what is most real in others.

I don’t think the only way to experience such a profound wake-up call is through tragedy, illness or trauma.  We have the ability – and the choice – every day to pay attention to what we are paying attention to, and determine whether it is really worthy of our time and precious energy.  We can open our eyes to the unfolding of each moment and allow the questions that haunt and beckon in the furthest corners of our minds to become magnified in such a way that we cannot help but hear and respond to them.

What gives your life meaning?

What are you really here to do?

…to be?

And are you doing it?

If not, when will you start?

How about now?

Copyright Synchronistics Coaching & Consulting 2010.  All rights reserved.

Enduring a Stormy State of Mind

When I used to get hiccups as a kid, my father would tell me the best way to get rid of them was to wait for the next one.  Surprisingly, more often than not, it actually worked – almost as though inviting in the very thing I wanted to avoid had a way of ushering it out.  As I reflected on the previous week, I realized that I used a similar tactic a few days ago to help me shift out of a very negative state into a more positive one.

It was a tough morning.  My body didn’t want to get out of bed, and even after I managed to get up it felt heavy and encumbered.  My mind matched that state, and everything I turned my attention on seemed to be darkened by a black fog that followed me everywhere I went.  In contrast, it was a gorgeous day outside.  No clouds, a cool bright morning, birds singing, etc., etc.  I decided to go out there and see if it might lift my spirits a bit.

I made myself go running, though I would rather have sat staring zombie like into a cup of coffee.  It was harder than usual and the first several minutes of stiffness that usually give way to a state of flow felt more like an eternity.  I run because I enjoy it, I reminded myself.  But really I just wanted the whole excursion to be over.

I recalled my brother and me on boating outings with our grandparents when we were kids.  Every once in a while, we would anchor the boat near a shore where long, wild reeds would grow and the ground beneath the water would release stinky bubbles of putrid gas when our toes sunk deeply into the soft, squishy mud.  The more we stirred our feet the more rank the odor became.  I laughed as I realized that this foul stench was the closest thing I could think of to compare the state of my mind to at that very moment.

And then I began to become amused.  I was able to distance myself from the state itself and simply observe it, in much the same way that I observe and muse over my children when they wake up grouchy – these precious, sweet little souls who can behave like little %*#*’s at times.  I can be amused with them because I know eventually it will pass.  And in that moment I knew the same thing was true of my own condition.

So I just gave myself to it.  Rather than resisting, I let the negativity bubble up inside of me and just take everything over.  But as I did, try as I might, there was a bigger, stronger part of me that was completely unaffected.  It was the part of me that was observing the whole thing.  The more entertained I became, the less of a foothold those foul emotions and thoughts had.  By the end of my run, I felt calmer, freer, and experiencing a far more productive and constructive state of mind.

We will all have moments when the skies of our minds seem to darken, when the very thing someone did yesterday that didn’t affect us at all will annoy the hell out of us, when even blue skies and babies fail to bring smiles to our faces.  But these moments will eventually  pass.  We need to realize that these states of mind are just that – states.  They pass just like the weather.  And sometimes the best thing we can do is simply allow ourselves to sit in the heart of the storm and watch.  If we can do this for ourselves, we can do this for others too.  Perhaps in this way, we can identify with the part of them that is stronger than the turbulences they are experiencing so that they can do the same for themselves.

Having weathered the storms of our minds, we can appreciate even more deeply the beauty of the clear, clean freshness that follows – and use it as a backdrop on which to create our own rainbows.

Copyright Synchronistics Coaching & Consulting 2010.  All rights reserved.

Getting Out of Overwhelm

The last several weeks have been fraught with technical challenges that almost had me throwing my computer through the window or taking a sledgehammer to it. Fortunately, I was able to resist my destructive urges and instead come to a realization that led me to some vital insights about better leveraging my time without losing my head (and other things that are important to me). Recognizing I’m not the only one who faces productivity issues, I decided to write about what I learned in my May ezine.  Below is an excerpt of the full article, Getting Out of Overwhelm, with a link to read more.

If you would like to have these monthly articles emailed to you directly, you can subscribe at www.dianebolden.com  (and I’ll also send you my special report on 10 Traps Leaders Unwittingly Create for Themselves, and How to Avoid Them.)

Getting Out of Overwhelm

Do you ever feel as though there just aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done?

Time is an interesting concept. On some days it seems to fly by and on others it drags. At times you might feel as though you have been muddling through something for hours with nothing to show for it, and at others you may find yourself experiencing a sudden burst of productivity and energy that allows you to do in a short amount of time what may have previously taken you several hours or even days. What is the differentiator? Wouldn’t it be great if there were some kind of lever you could pull inside yourself to get you into that productive zone?

Sometimes I just wish there were a lever to get me out of the zone that keeps me spinning from one thing to the next without making much progress on anything. Seems I’ve been in that place a lot lately. And curious by nature, I have done my best to pay attention to what I’ve been experiencing so that I can somehow make heads or tails of it. At times like these, often my surroundings have a way of reflecting back to me my own state. In this particular case, my computer was the perfect mirror.  Read more…

Copyright Synchronistics Coaching & Consulting 2010.  All rights reserved.

The Art of Conscious Living

The other day I treated myself to a massage.  It was a welcome reprieve and my muscles were sore, so it felt especially good.  Every time I do something like that, I consciously try to be in a state of hyper awareness, where nothing will escape my perception.  I want to enjoy every single second of the experience and do whatever I can to dive into it completely.  In this state, I have often felt as though perhaps it is possible to slow time down.  While the physical act of doing so is improbable (though there are some who believe there is no such thing as time), I do believe that being intensely present allows us to fill each second of our time with more awareness, more enjoyment, more of life’s sweetness than ever.

I contrast this to how I often feel driving home at the end of a long day in traffic (especially if there are screaming kids in the car), cleaning up after my dog or cat, or getting a cavity filled.  Engaged in a somewhat banal or even unpleasant activity such as this, I can to some degree disengage from it altogether, and occupy my mind with other things.  This seems to have a way of speeding everything up and making the whole experience distant and somewhat blurred upon my recollection of it.  I can drive all the way home in this state and not be able to recall a single landmark I passed along the way.

The knowledge that I have the ability to slow down or speed up time for myself in this way is interesting to me.  But what is even more intriguing – and somewhat unsettling – is the thought of how much of my life is spent somewhere between these two extremes, kind of on auto pilot.  How many times in a conversation with someone is my mind somewhere else – scanning my “to do” list, thinking of what I could prepare for dinner, or even contemplating what I want to say next?  How many times when my kids come proudly marching through the door to show me their latest artwork do I half heartedly glance up from what I’m doing and offer feigned enthusiasm?  What I miss in those moments is something I can never get back.

I used to feel it was important to capture special times on film – and lugged around a camera, camcorder (or both) at the kids’ recitals, ball games, or during vacations and holiday events.  Then one day I realized I’d get so caught up in getting the perfect shot that I missed those precious moments altogether.  And they are never quite the same when you watch them on video.  So I began to resist the urge to reach for those devices (or even bring them altogether), and instead simply immerse myself in whatever was going on.  I think the quality of my memories has improved significantly – even if I don’t have a lot of photos or videos to show for it.

What if we lived more of our lives with the kind of presence we have when we don’t want to miss a thing?  How much more in tune would we be with each other?  How much more of each other would we actually experience and enjoy?  How much more trust could we inspire and nurture?  How much more joy could we create?  How many more problems would we solve with solutions that addressed those little things that may have previously escaped our awareness and come back to bite us?   How much more of our very selves could we bring to everything that we do and everyone we are with?  And how much better the world would be because of it!

Perhaps as we become more aware of the degree to which we are really showing up, we can begin to gauge how much of our lives we are truly living.  And then we can consciously create – and enjoy – lives worth living for.

Copyright Synchronistics Coaching & Consulting 2010.  All rights reserved.

A Change in Perspective

As I write this post, it is about 5:30 pm on a Wednesday afternoon and I’m sitting on my patio gazing over my back fence at a brand new twenty foot high three car garage that recently took the place of what used to be a spectacular mountain view.  I write about this incident because it set into motion some interesting and curious events that led me through an array of emotions.  My perspective initially produced sadness, irritation, anger and disgust, which gradually gave way to complacency and ultimately – though I never would have believed it – transformed not only into acceptance, but gratitude.

Now, believe me, if this post had been written the day after we met the man – a developer – who moved into the house across the alley from us – my tone and words would have been quite different.  We were shocked and outraged.  Wanting to be neighborly, my husband and I introduced ourselves.  With a very matter of fact manner , the man led us to his back yard and explained his plans.  Our efforts to become better acquainted were met with the words “You all are being very gracious, but it is not like I’m asking your permission.”  I remember watching his lips move but not quite receiving the impact of his words until we got back home and almost simultaneously uttered to each other – “Did he really say that?!”

To be fair, the man is a competitive water skier, and a large structure to house his equipment is apparently a necessity for him.  It is his property after all, and he has every right to build what he wants there – though it seems a bit peculiar that the new construction was reserved for his various vehicles while he apparently has elected to use the existing garage as his living quarters.  The other strange thing is that this monstrously high structure actually eviscerated his own view of the mountain – a detail that I didn’t actually notice until the initial anger subsided and my mind became curiously reflective.

But the event spun a whole series of reactions into play.  Over the initial few weeks after we met the man, we were consumed with bitterness which cast a long, dark shadow over our usually very happy household.  We couldn’t look out the window without feeling irritation and decided that we didn’t want to live in a continual state of anger.  So we began looking for a new house.  Our initial efforts were somewhat non eventful, but we did actually end up finding something not far from our old home that we really liked.  It was a short sale.  We made an offer that got accepted after what seemed like an excruciatingly long period of waiting during which we put our current home on the market for sale or lease.

When the sign went up in our front yard, I felt an intense sadness that grew more and more pronounced when people came into the house to view it.  My husband and I both were struck with how much we loved our home, the memories we shared in it (including watching all three of our children grow from babies to toddlers and beyond), and the things we did over the years to make it our own – not the least of which was a fairly substantial remodel.

The realization that we were actually moving was bittersweet.  There were many things the new house offered that the old one didn’t, and we were excited about the possibilities.  But we began to notice that the longer things played out, the less enamored we were and the more we became focused on what we would be losing.   Well, as luck would have it, the sellers defaulted on their contract and we ended up canceling the sale.

And now, I couldn’t be happier!  The monstrosity across the alley that once produced feelings of bitterness and resentment is a constant reminder for me to count my blessings and remember what is truly important in my life.  I am grateful to have a home at all – which I realize is more than many people have right now.  But I am most grateful  for the new appreciation and insight this change in perspective have given me on my power to frame and reframe the experiences that determine how I feel on any given day.  And to recognize that the old adage – home is where the heart is – is really true.  The degree to which my heart is open is exclusively dependent on me and everything I see really is a matter of perspective.  Makes me wonder what else I might be seeing that has an entirely new and empowering interpretation I have not yet landed on…

The Birth of a New Creation

Well, I finally finished writing the book I’ve been working on for the last four years – the first draft that is.  I’m well aware that the real work is only just beginning.  The whole creative process has reminded me of actually physically giving birth in so many ways, though my gestation period with the book was more than four times longer.  Come to think of it, so was the labor.

It started with the glow of an idea.  I don’t know if it showed up in my face as it may have when I was pregnant with each of my three children, but I felt it throughout my body.  The idea inspired and uplifted me and began to take on a life of its own.  As it continued to take form and I scribbled down notes that would flesh out the initial concepts, the excitement grew.

Once there was no mistaking that I would be bringing the book into the world, morning sickness set in.  When I wasn’t working on the manuscript, I felt a gnawing sense of uneasiness that beckoned me to devote time at my computer.  And when I was writing, I often had the insatiable urge to eat – especially when I felt as though the words I needed just weren’t coming fast enough.  This of course, was occasionally followed by nausea and stomach cramps.  Thankfully, no maternity clothes were necessary.

I learned that just as you cannot rush the development of a baby’s hand or ear, it is also true that you simply cannot force inspiration.  I found that my best writing came when I relaxed enough into the process to get out of my head and let something bigger come through me.  It became clear over the many months that followed that it was not mine to determine what the creation would look like or to fret over whether I was doing a good enough job with it.  It was an idea – a seed – that was within me but had surely originated from something greater.  The best thing I could do was to get out of the way and let the thing evolve as it needed to.  When I learned to content myself with simply being a vessel, things went much more smoothly.

And then as I got to the last few chapters, my level of urgency and excitement went through the roof.  I couldn’t stop writing.  Several nights a week, I woke up at two, three or four in the morning and after lying in bed wide awake for twenty or thirty minutes, simply got up and went to my computer.  The labor had begun.  And it soaked up every ounce of attention and energy I had.  I stalled on the final chapter.  I wanted the thing out – free and clear.  After writing a couple of lame sentences I fooled myself into thinking perhaps it was done.  And then I had another contraction, this one so strong and powerful that it wiped those last two sentences out and left three pages of afterword in their place.

For a week or so, the manuscript lay sleeping peacefully, breathing softly, wrapped in swaddling.  Thoroughly and completely exhausted, I couldn’t bring myself to do much of anything.   And then I realized the little guy needs care and feeding to survive.  I hired an editor to help me nurse it.  The poor thing probably has a lopsided head from being in the birth canal so long.  It needs suctioning and baby wipes and probably a good lukewarm bath too.

And I find myself now in much the same place I did after my first child was born – with the blissful yet sobering knowledge that I am now a parent – or, well, an author.  That this little thing needs me to help it make its way in the world – to support its head until its muscles are strong enough to lift it on its own, and to nurture it to the place that others can hold and enjoy it as much as I do.  Just as there are seemingly millions of books, articles and blogs written on how to raise a child, the myriad of opinions and recommendations on next steps with the manuscript are completely overwhelming.  I comfort myself with the thought that with each of my three children I felt that same sense of panic and wonder.  And that with love, dedication and an occasional bit of sleep I ended up learning everything I needed to know along the way.  I have to believe this creation will be no different.

Its name is The Pinocchio Principle ~ Becoming Real:  Authentic Leadership for the 21^st Century.  Welcome to the world, little one!

Copyright Synchronistics Coaching & Consulting 2010.  All rights reserved.

Harnessing the Power of Thought

As many of you already know, I’ve been working on writing a book on authentic leadership for over three years now (and I’m almost done!) The process of writing has illuminated many things for me, one of which is the power I believe each of us has to create the reality we experience. Last week, I wrote an entire chapter on that. And I found myself musing over the fact that while many of the experiences I’ve envisioned for myself have come to be, others have not. As I pondered the reasons for that, this month’s ezine article, Harnessing the Power of Thought, emerged. Below is an excerpt and you can click the link to read the full article.

Harnessing the Power of Thought

“There are powers inside of you which, if you could discover and use, would make of you everything you ever dreamed or imagined you could become.”

~Orison Marden Swett

The above quote is one of many I have seen over the years that references our ability to create that which we most desire. In his beautiful book “As a Man Thinketh”, first published in 1901, James Allen writes “Dream lofty dreams, and as you dream, so shall you become. Your Vision is the promise of what you shall one day be; your ideal is the prophecy of what you shall at last unveil.” Henry David Thoreau wrote “If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with success unexpected in common hours.” And Napoleon Hill affirmed, “What the mind of man can conceive and believe, it can achieve.”

This power is not the result of a magic pill or some kind of sorcery. Rather than being something we must rely on others for, it is a gift we are all born with that we gradually learn to utilize as we become more and more aligned with what is most true within us. This gift is quite simply the strength of the feeling we generate when we identify with something so specifically that we take it to be real. With sustained and unwavering belief, whatever we hold in our minds and our hearts in this way becomes our reality.

As a teenager I began to read a lot about the power of positive thinking and visualization. I was enthralled by stories of athletes who would spend time imagining themselves sinking those critical shots to go on at game time and perform exactly as they rehearsed in their minds. I utilized affirmations of positive intent around the person I was becoming and the wonderful things that were coming into my life. I played with creating vision boards for myself, made from large poster paper with various pictures of things I wanted to have or symbols that represented experiences I longed for glued onto it. I created movies in my head that featured me performing anything from sports to public speaking powerfully and passionately with great success. Many of these visions and dreams have come true over the years. And some have not.

I have reflected at length on what it might be that differentiated the dreams and visions that came to fruition from those that didn’t. And I have come to the conclusion that there are three significant factors… click here to read the full article