Not Seeing Results? Don’t Give Up.

Do you ever feel like despite your best, most diligent, inspired effort, discipline and patience, you don’t seem to be getting anywhere?  Maybe you have a vision that excites you – an idea of how something could be done differently, a creation you’d like to breathe life into, a way of improving your quality of life – or that of others.  You plan, you prepare, you do the work.  Repeatedly.  But despite all that effort and persistence, you have little if anything to show for it.

You might question yourself.  Are you doing it right? Are you missing something?

You might get angry and try harder to control the outcome – double down your efforts, research extensively to figure out how to foolproof your plan, do whatever you can to MAKE it happen.

You may take your anger out on others.  Why aren’t they cooperating?  And how is it that everyone else seems to have it easier than you do?

You may question your vision.  Is this really worth investing your time and energy in?

You might feel like quitting and moving onto something easier, more mainstream, with less risk or exposure.  You gave it a good run.  Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

But the idea of throwing in the towel feels even worse than continuing what seems to be a losing battle.   

And try as you might, you just can’t shake the hold of that vision.  It beckons.  It haunts.  It enchants – revisiting you in your quiet hours, whispering about what is possible.

What do you do?

Have you ever heard the story of the Chinese Bamboo tree?  It’s quite unusual.  A farmer who plants these seeds will water, fertilize and tend to them  daily.  After a year of care and nurturing, the ground looks the same way it did when the seeds were planted.  Another year will pass as the farmer continues his efforts,  with no seeming growth at all.  A third year of care and feeding will go by.  NOTHING.  And then another year of watering, fertilizing and patiently waiting.  Still nothing.  In the fifth year, small sprouts will appear.  And in the six weeks that follow, the little shoot will grow up to ninety feet tall.

What we don’t realize about these seeds  – and our precious visions – is that while patience, faith and perseverance may not produce tangible signs of progress for quite some time, they work wonders beneath the surface, laying the groundwork for what will follow. 

To sustain the towering height these trees grow to, the root system must be deep and vast.  We too must have a strong inner foundation to ensure we have what we need before we can share it with others.  So many of our efforts are a quest to prove to ourselves that we are worthy.  We often mistakenly think that accolades, prestige, wealth and all that comes with success will allow us to feel  strong and fulfilled.   But that approach is backwards.

The “trappings” of success fade over time and are as  easily toppled as a tree with no root system.  If instead we start with a strong, grounded feeling of worthiness and appreciation for ourselves, we can extend our gifts to others  knowing that we have all we need and that sharing it with others will only make us stronger – in the same way that bamboo continues to grow after it is harvested.  This strength is cultivated over time, and often happens during the times of our lives that feel most barren.  We endure disappointments, we try something and fail, we learn about who we are and why we are here.  This is all growth that happens beneath the surface.  And it makes us strong and resilient enough to stand tall, reach high, and do the work we have been inspired to do out of joy rather than necessity.

Visions worth working for often don’t come to fruition right away and timing is not something that can be controlled.  When we try desperately to speed things up, we will often experience frustration, and feelings of desperation that may lead to anger and/or withdrawal.  Just as we cannot peel rosebuds open or shorten the time it takes for a caterpillar to become a butterfly, we cannot rush the progress and transformation that happens with our visions and our very selves. Sometimes our efforts to speed things up actually delay progress, as when we get too attached to a certain course of action that interferes with the natural progression of things.  This is analogous to digging up and replanting seeds that have not yet sprouted.

The “overnight success” we often hear about is more often than not the result of years of dedication, commitment, perseverance and faith that like the growth of the Chinese bamboo tree took several years to come to fruition.  As you pursue your grandest dreams and visions, many will tell you that your efforts are in vain, that you do not have what it takes, that you should quit while you are ahead.  And you may begin to question yourself as well.  But as you weather these storms and continue to believe in and cultivate something that cannot yet be seen,  you will ultimately be rewarded with seeing that which you believe.  And it will enrich your life – and that of others in ways you may never have anticipated.

For more on bringing your grandest dreams and visions to fruition and laying the foundation necessary to sustain them, check out The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming a Real Leader now available in both ebook and paperback formats on Amazon.

The Desperate Anxiety photo courtesy of Naypong at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Bamboo Trees photo courtesy of S P Photography.

Five Tips for Finding Your Way Through Uncertainty

Have you ever found yourself lost in unfamiliar territory, all your best laid plans gone awry, without a clue what to do next?  Maybe it’s a project that leads you to feel like you’re in over your head, or a new job or other life change that you haven’t quite acclimated to.  It’s unnerving and humbling.  And yet, it seems to be a common occurrence for those who muster up the courage to venture out of their comfort zone.  I had an experience recently that gave me greater insight into how to better handle life’s inevitable curve balls that I hope will help you as much as it helped me.

Over the summer, our family had the good fortune to travel to Edinburgh, Scotland.  It was the first time any of us had ever been there, and we were enchanted by the rolling hills of the countryside, the quaint cobblestoned streets, and the charm of the various pubs, restaurants and shops that line the “Royal Mile,” which leads to the large stone walls of the stunning Edinburgh castle.

The cars there look a bit different than they do here in America.  In addition to the notable absence of sports utility vehicles, all of them have steering wheels on the right side.  And they all drive on the left side of the road, instead of the right.  My husband, whose 6 foot 5 frame barely fit in the Fiat we rented, was courageous enough to brave the narrow streets, some of which barely accommodate two cars traveling in different directions.  Additionally, he was patient enough to withstand the nervous mutterings of his anxious wife who sat in what would normally be the driver’s seat with her foot pressed into the floor and her hands gripping the dashboard.  To say I have a whole new respect for him would be an understatement.

He and my oldest son made arrangements to golf at St. Andrews while I and our other two kids slept in and had a leisurely breakfast.   And then there was a decision to be made.  In the few hours before my husband and son would be back, we could lounge around the hotel or strike out and do some sightseeing.  While the lazy (and wimpy) part of me wanted to lay in bed and read a book, the more adventurous and curious side was egged on by the pleas of my other two children who quickly bored of the prospect of sitting around in a quiet room.  And I figured if my husband can brave driving on the Edinburgh streets, the least I could do is venture out of the hotel.

So after getting some very brief and imprecise directions from the hotel concierge, we walked to the edge of the parking lot and waited there for a bus to take us into town.  Getting home, it was said, would be as easy as waiting at the stop across the street from the one we would get off at, for another bus which arrive every fifteen minutes.

We had a great time, wandering through shops, taking in the sights, eating handmade candies and nuts from the street vendors and shopping for trinkets, until we realized it was time to head back.  And that was when we discovered that finding the bus that would return us to our hotel was not nearly as easy as we thought it would be.   Contrary to what the hotel concierge said, the bus we needed was not across the street from where we were dropped off.

We learned there was more than one bus line, each with its own collection of stops, and each with a distinctly numbered route that led to a different part of town.  Unfortunately, though the local town folk were very kind and eager to help, we didn’t know enough to even ask the right questions and ended up parting ways with people who became almost as frustrated as we were with our lack of information.

And though our situation could have been easily remedied by simply hailing a cab, my stubborn determination to make it work the way I envisioned it should led us to spend the next hour and a half piecing together clues and running around chasing buses to find the blasted bus stop.

The good news is that we eventually did find it.  And after waiting for what felt like a really long time, we were delighted when the bus with the number we needed began to approach… and flabbergasted when it continued to drive on without even slowing down.

What?!  How could…?  We sat looking at each other in disbelief, our jaws dropping.  The local who was sitting beside us at the bus stop was amused.  “Did yeh want the bus to stop for yeh?” he asked, with a Scottish clip.

I stuffed down my irritation and mustered a smile.  Wasn’t it obvious?  “Uh, yeah.”

“Aye.  Yeh need to flag it down.”  Now there was a piece of information that would have been good to know before we left the hotel.

Fifteen minutes later we jumped up and down waving our arms to ensure that driver of the next bus saw us.  And once we boarded it, we mused over what a debacle our little trip became.

Here are the insights I gained from that little experience that I believe can easily be translated into many of the unnerving situations we often find ourselves in – and that I am actually in the process of applying in my own life as well.

1.  Preconceived ideas and plans can greatly hinder your progress if you become too attached to them.  Just as my insistence on finding the illusive bus stop instead of hailing a cab cost us over an hour of frustration and needless searching, so too can clinging to what you think needs to happen keep you from missing an alternate route that may be far more aligned with getting you what you really want.  We need to stay open and present to the best possible solutions given the changing situations we find ourselves in – and allow ourselves to utilize information that may not have been available in advance.
2. If in the midst of uncertainty, you see through the eyes of an adventurer instead of a victim, you can save yourself the agony of frustration and may even enjoy the navigating the challenge you are faced with.   As we rode the bus home, we mused over the humor of the situation, how silly we must have looked chasing buses down the busy city streets, and how much of our time exploring we didn’t allow ourselves to really enjoy because we were so irritated and afraid we would never make it back.  I’m not sure what the worst case scenario would have been, but I’m certain it didn’t merit the angst I experienced.  And when I stop to think about it, I find that is true of almost any challenge or obstacle I have faced.
3. Beware of your assumptions.  Of course we assumed the bus would stop for us, the way buses do here in America.  The thought never even occurred to us that we would have to actually do something to get the attention of the driver.  But we were in a foreign country, with different customs and norms.  And our assumptions were incorrect.  How often is that true of something new you’ve tried – expecting it work just like everything else you’ve done and then finding yourself in a playing field where all the rules are different and nothing is the way you thought it would be?  We need to approach our explorations and endeavors with a beginner’s mind and be willing to ask the “stupid” questions.  We also have to be patient (with ourselves and others) when we don’t even know enough to recognize what the “stupid” questions are.  It’s all a process.
4. Never be afraid to ask for what you need.  Having to flag that bus down hit me at a metaphorical level as well as a literal one.  It reminded me that it is often not enough to simply show up and wait for things to happen.  Sometimes we need to ask for what we need or want – the sale, the support, the promotion, the resources, whatever the case may be.  Having just published the ebook version of The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming a Real Leader and in the throes of promoting it, I am finally learning to reach out to my networks to ask them to help me spread the word – something I didn’t really do when the paperback version came out three years ago.  Why?  I don’t know.  Sometimes it takes awhile to learn even the most obvious lessons.
5. Give yourself a break and acknowledge your courage.  Yes, if I would have made the decision to stay in that hotel room laying around, I wouldn’t have had to endure the frustration and irritation I experienced that day – and would have saved my kids from that angst as well.  But we also would have missed out on all the great things we did and saw that day.  And we wouldn’t have learned the valuable life lessons that come from striking out and trying something new and not getting it perfect out of the gate.  Things rarely go just the way you want them to when you are in a whole new arena, but the more you allow yourself to venture into unchartered territory and embrace the mystery, the more resilient, resourceful, and confident you become.

I’ve written extensively about the art of navigating through uncertainty, learning to listen to and trust your intuition to guide your way, and getting out of your comfort zone to live the life of your dreams in The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming a Real Leader.  You can get your copy today – in paperback or as an ebook at Amazon.com.  And please spread the word to anyone else who would benefit!

 

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

What Happened to Me When the Bottom Fell Out

A little over a year ago, the bottom dropped out of my business.  Many of my biggest contracts came to an end, and it seemed nothing I tried was getting anywhere.  The programs I designed weren’t filling, or would run into major snags just as they were about to get off the ground.  I had no desire to go out and drum up more business – couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do at all.  It seemed none of the things that used to fill me up were working anymore. None of my old strategies had any teeth or traction.  I was lost and discouraged.

The book I had published earlier in the year wasn’t selling the way I wanted it to, which made sense given that I had done very little if any promotion.  It just didn’t feel right.  Nothing really felt right.   I spent months worrying about what was happening to me, trying to find a foothold, and making myself crazy with a huge list of “shoulds” that I couldn’t get myself to do.  I beat myself up pretty bad.  And then I decided the heck with it.  I would accept whatever it was that was happening and just go with it.

One thing I began to enjoy was working with video.  After helping my long time coach and friend Vickie Champion with a video for one of her blogs, she turned the camera on me and pushed the record button before I even knew what I was going to say.  And it was fun – even though it wasn’t quite comfortable with (or very good at) it yet.  We filmed a lot of little video vignettes for my blog and then one day decided to work on something a little more substantive.  We had no idea what was about to unfold.

It started out as a video complement to my book, The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming the Leader You Were Born to Be.  But it evolved into something neither one of us saw coming.  I was tapping creative reserves I didn’t even know I had.  And I was venturing out of my comfort zone – way out.  I threw mainstream to the wind and got a little goofy.

Pinocchio became Pistachio, and I went into character as Jiminea Cricketesia, Voice of Intuition. I dawned a black felt hat, clown vest and a crazy white shirt with ridiculously flared sleeves.  The story we were telling was my own.  And it is the story of so many people I have worked with and continue to work with over the years who have hit a wall trying to play a game that cannot be won – chasing after versions of so called “success” that left them feeling empty and wanting more out of life.  It is a story of the journey that ends the futile search and shines the way to true happiness and lasting fulfillment.

Today, I am thrilled to have the chance to share this series, On the Road to Real: The Adventures of Pistachio with you.  For years I have wanted to provide something that would allow people to get in touch with their own intuition and find their answers in an affordable, impactful way that doesn’t require a huge time commitment.  And that is exactly what this series is – in fact, we are so passionate about helping as many people as possible that we’ve decided to allow people to set their own price for it.

So, if anything I wrote about resonated with you – if you feel like you are running in circles, disenchanted with your work or personal life, or on the verge of a profound transformation that has left you wondering what’s next, I invite you to check this video series out at OnTheRoadtoReal.com/Adventures-of-Pistachio/.  Let me know what you think.  And if you know of anyone who might benefit, spread the word.

“Do not go where the path may lead;

go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Thin rope image courtesy of Idea go at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

How To Leverage Life’s Little Roadblocks

There is major construction underway at the end of my street on into the main road that leads in and out of our neighborhood.  It is blocking our normal traffic route to everything and has tripled the drive time to places I frequent every day, like my office, my kids’ school and the grocery store.  If I forget about the blockages on my way home, I have to double back to the alternate route and it takes even longer.   It’s throwing a huge monkey wrench in my daily routine and provoking an unbelievable amount of frustration and irritation.

I’m not the only one that has been twisted into a knot about it.  We live one house down from the construction, where orange and white barricades frame a giant “Road Closed” sign.  Every day I see angry people speeding to the end of our street, only to use our driveway to turn around.  I can almost hear the expletives flying out of their mouths.  Though I’m not a lip reader, I’m pretty sure they are some of the same words I’ve used upon encountering those barricades.

To make things worse, because of this construction our water has been turned off for hours at a time, and though there is warning from the city on when it is going to happen, I invariably forget until after I’ve rubbed a few squirts of liquid soap all over my hands and then realize I have nothing to rinse with.  My groans are drowned out by giant clangs, bangs and booms and the beeping of trucks that may as well be backing through our living room window.

But even at the height of my aggravation a part of me has become amused by the degree to which I’ve allowed myself to become frustrated, grouchy and resentful over something that just is what it is.  This calmer, wiser part of me knows that getting so incredibly irritated isn’t helping anything, least of all me.  And I’m certain that in that state, I’m not improving the quality of anyone else’s day either.

I even found myself calling the 24 hour information line one day when the signs and barricades were still up even though the road appeared to be temporarily unobstructed.  When the guy on the other end of the line answered, I knew by his tone that he had been inundated with calls just like mine.  Nonetheless, he was kind and understanding and did everything he could to keep me calm and provide as much information as possible on the project.  I realized this man was simply doing his job.  And that there was no good reason to take my frustration out on him.

How often do you experience roadblocks in your life?

It often seems just when we have things figured out and going the way we want them to, life throws us a curve that yanks us out of autopilot and requires us to find a new way of operating.  It’s so unsettling.  The old moves don’t work anymore.  Yet we haven’t quite become accustomed to the new way of doing things (or even found the way for that matter.)

We want things to happen the way WE want them to.  We like to be the ones to call the shots, and to have some level of predictability and routine.  I’ve often noticed that even people who claim to love change, don’t love it so much when they are not the ones initiating it.

But if moaning and groaning about it isn’t the answer, what is?  How can you navigate life’s little barricades and construction zones with more grace and less stress?  How do you redirect the energy that would have gone into complaining into something more constructive?

The answer came to me the other day in my karate class.  We were practicing sparring, which those of you who frequent my blog know I’ve had my challenges with (and learned quite a few lessons from).  Up to this point, sparring hasn’t been something I would choose to practice if given the option.  But it is an important part of the martial arts, because it allows students to begin to see how the basic techniques they’ve learned are actually applied.  It provides an opportunity to transcend mechanics and practice artfulness.  And it also sheds some light on how we can do the same in our everyday lives.

When you are in the middle of a sparring match, you can’t just stand there while fists and feet are flying at you.  And you can’t tell the person you’re sparring with to wait until you are ready or which arm or leg to throw their punch or kick with or where to aim it.  You can’t plan in advance how you will defend yourself because you just can’t anticipate what is about to happen in a way that would lend itself to planning.

You have to be in the moment.

You have to make the most of every opportunity.

And you have to get out of your head in order to know what to do next.

Once you do that, you begin to see openings and opportunities instead of obstacles and threats.  You find that you actually know more than you think you do, and a new awareness begins to emerge – one that allows you to think creatively and act with greater intent and impact.  You move more fluidly and learn to trust and rely on yourself.

I haven’t actually gotten to the point where I can consistently do all that just yet, but I know I will if I just keep practicing.  Which brings me back to the inconvenience of my little construction zone…  While I’m still not thrilled about the idea of being forced to travel new roads instead of relying on the ones that have always gotten me where I need to go, I have begun to appreciate that little inconveniences such as these also bring gifts.

They give us the very practice we need get out of our heads and learn to look at things in new ways, make new connections, and creatively find and act on opportunities in the midst of our challenges.  They also help us develop patience and exercise it in a way that allows us to remain calm and centered in the midst of chaos – and the next curve ball life will inevitably throw at us.

Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway

Every day when I pull into my garage, my headlights illuminate a box of solar garden lanterns my father bought for me for Christmas a few years ago.  Every time I see them I am reminded that I need to set them up.  But something stops me.  I don’t know what it is, really.  Maybe I feel like I don’t have the time to do it.  Part of me is unsure exactly where to put them.  But I have to admit that I also worry it will be too complicated.  That I won’t be able to figure it out quickly.  That I’ll get bogged down with it.  And so these beautiful lights are still sitting in the box in our garage.

A couple of shelves over from the solar lights are bags of palm tree supplements and fertilizers.  I bought them a few months ago with the good intention of trying to give our trees an extra leg up in the scorching summer heat.  Every weekend, I see on my list of weekend projects, “fertilize palm trees”.  But the bags are still sitting on the shelf.  They are heavy and stinky.  And it’s hot outside.  Admittedly it is not at the top of my list of priorities.  But really, why have I let them sit for so long?  When I’m totally honest with myself, I realize it’s because I’m anxious about whether or not I’ll figure out the right ratios and the right way to spread the stuff around the dirt – whether I’ll have to dig or sprinkle, and then I just figure there’s something more pressing that needs to get done.

Silly, stupid stuff, right?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  The other day it hit me that these things I let sit in the garage may be indicative of a larger, more significant pattern in my life.  One that is keeping me stuck and jamming up my creative energy. You see, I haven’t written in a very long time.  I love to write.  It frees me.  It feeds me.  And yet I haven’t allowed myself to do it.  Why?

I got hung up in my head.  Silly decisions that I kept putting off.  Little complications that I allowed to fester and grow.  What to write about?  Should I do an article or a video?  Where should I post it, now that I have a couple of different websites and a column that I contribute to?  When should I write?  What if I can’t get it all done in the time I have?  What if I start and then I can’t finish?  I go around and around in my head until I become incredibly irritated with myself.

And then I go find something else to do.  Something safe.  Something clean and easy to check the box on.  And I have a few seconds of a very fleeting and artificial sense of accomplishment that slowly fades into a nagging, unsettling feeling.  Over the last few weeks, I’ve developed an irritating muscle cramp that has become so painful I am having trouble moving in certain ways.  Whether it is related or not, it is the perfect physical equivalent to what is going on in my mind.

And this morning it hit me.  The dynamic that keeps me from tackling the boxes and bags in the garage is the same dynamic that has blocked my writing.  I’m in fear.  And I’m doubting myself.  I’m worrying about all the things that could go wrong.  That could make things hard.  And I’m creating all kinds of distractions and complications to keep myself from doing what I really need to do most.  And it is becoming painful.

The last box that I let sit for months was a printer we got over the summer for my kids to use for their school projects.  I could tell you it sat in the box because they didn’t really need it until school started.  But the truth is, it stayed in the box because I didn’t want to deal with it.  In my mind it was a complicated endeavor that would have me confused and take hours of time.  After school started again, I realized I had to muscle up and get the darn thing plugged in.

I know some of you are probably laughing right now.  Really?  How hard can it be to set up a printer?  When I finally tore open the box and started following the directions I was laughing at myself too.  It really wasn’t that hard.  Until we flipped the switch and got an error message that the carriage was jammed before we ever even put paper in it.  I spent the next forty minutes talking to technical support and then finally boxing up the printer to send back to the manufacturer (I had waited too long to be able to just bring it back to the store.)

My fear was validated in the same way that it was validated the last time I tried to assemble a piece of furniture only to find that when I thought I was almost done I had to completely disassemble everything and put it back together again following instructions written in really bad English and accompanied by pictures that didn’t look anything like the parts I had.

This morning I realized it’s not that my fear isn’t justified.

It’s just that I can’t let it stop me.

I almost let this fear keep me from coaching my daughter’s volleyball team.  This is something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time.  But I hesitated because my daughter has never actually played volleyball and I have never coached any sport at all.  What if I couldn’t remember how the game goes, what the positions are, how the players rotate?  What if I let the girls (or their parents) down?  What if it becomes apparent that I haven’t the slightest idea what I’m doing?

I didn’t see it as a lucky thing at the time, but it turned out that the only way my daughter and her friends could be on the same team was if I became their coach.  So I did.  Reluctantly at first – and somewhat begrudgingly.  Then I realized that despite my reservations, it’s really a lot of fun.  And I don’t have to have all the answers.  Others are happy to help me fill in the gaps, tell me what I don’t know, give me ideas, and offer support.  And the look on the girls’ faces when they do something they couldn’t do before is priceless.  Thank God I didn’t let my silly doubts and fears keep me from this amazing experience.

Funny how little things like solar lanterns and palm tree fertilizer can provoke such powerful insights.  The irony that I am a coach who helps others get out of their fear and into their zones isn’t lost on me.   But I get it.  I understand why it’s so hard.  And I also know why it is so very important.  That’s why I wanted to share with you my own inner struggles – because we all have them.  The only thing that really matters is what we do about it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some palm trees to fertilize.

Photo credit:  David Castillo Domenici, Free Digital Photos

The Real Meaning of Victory

Well, I made it through my karate belt test on Saturday.  I actually really enjoyed my belt test.  Yes, it’s true.

In last week’s blog post, Overcoming the Illusion of Fear, I wrote about the anxiety I experienced after my last karate belt test that led me to fear and dread the next one.  And I also wrote about what helped me get into a mindset that would allow me to finally feel ready to stand in the fear and do the thing I was afraid of.  If you would have asked me a year or two ago what victory would have been, I would have told you it was making it through the test without getting hit in the face.    And I didn’t get hit in the face, but that’s not what I feel most victorious about.

You would have thought from reading last week’s article that the whole test was sparring and grappling.  In fact, I’m told it only lasted a total of four minutes (though it feels like an eternity when you’re in it).  The actual belt test in its entirety was five and a half hours long.  Yes, that’s right – 95% of my anxiety and fear was about a four minute portion of a five and a half hour test, a fact that was pointed out to me and other karate students in class two days before the test.  It was a startling realization.  As I reflected on it, I became aware that it’s not the first time I’ve gotten so worked up over something that I poured more of my energy into worry and anxiety than anything else.

“I’ll feel so much better when that presentation is behind me.” 

“I just want to get that project done so I can relax.” 

 “I won’t be able to enjoy myself until I have that dreaded conversation.” 

Do you ever say things like that to yourself?  Check the box, and then feel grateful for having checked another box.  The trouble with that mentality is that it leads us to withdraw ourselves from the very things that we need to be most present for.  We get so attached to the outcomes that we cheat ourselves of the experiences and the real gifts they offer.    Sure they’re uncomfortable.  Of course we look forward to having them over with.  But the real victory is not in winning the trophy, it’s in having played our best game.  And to do that, we must be fully present – while the game is being played. 

We can prepare all we want.  We can rehearse.  We can plan and practice.  And all of that is good.  But really, the outcome of any of these things that spin us into a frenzy is directly linked to what we do during the experience itself.  We have to detach ourselves from our plans and carefully rehearsed versions of whatever is about to unfold.  Because the reality is that we can never fully anticipate what is about to happen.  We need to be in the moment, tuning into the people we are with, the things that are being said and done and what we are being moved to do in response that may not have anything to do with what we rehearsed.  We need to trust in that part of ourselves that will direct us in just the way we need to go in the moment. 

The key benefit of practice and preparation is that we get our minds around the fact that we have everything we need to rise up to any challenge we will be confronted with.  In short, we must believe in ourselves and our ability to respond to whatever is taking place even if we’ve never experienced it before.

Merriam Webster defines “victory” as 1: the overcoming of an enemy or antagonist, and 2: the achievement of mastery or success in a struggle or endeavor against odds or difficulties.  The true enemy/antagonist in my battle was the part of me that didn’t believe I could handle the karate test, or any test for that matter – the one that just wanted to get it behind me so that I could go onto easier, more enjoyable things.  This is the enemy that created the greatest odds and the most horrendous difficulties.

The biggest thing standing in the way of our ability to achieve whatever we endeavor to do is the part of us that keeps us believing we cannot pull it off.  True mastery and success will occur for each one of us as we endeavor to rise up in the midst of this opposition and do what is ours to do.   And as we do, we will create something we can be truly grateful for – the experience of discovering and unearthing that part of ourselves that can remain calm in the face of any opposition and access the best possible solution in the moment – any moment.  This victory is the only kind that is lasting.  And each victory of this kind builds on the one that came before.

A toast, to victory!  And to every experience, for better or worse, that gives us the opportunity to truly experience it.

 

I would like to personally thank the Center for Humane Living and every person who is a part of it for enriching my life, and that of others in so many profound ways.

 

For more on achieving Victory:

 

The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming the Leader You Were Born to Be

Getting What You Really Want

Falling Down

Beyond Boundaries

Taking Your Leap, Part II

 

Checklist image by Rawich.

Jumping silhouette by Biansho.

Overcoming the Illusion of Fear

Almost exactly two years ago, I had a karate belt test that pushed me beyond my limits.  I wrote an article called Tapping Your Reserves that captured what took place as well as the lessons I learned as a result.  But reflecting back on that experience now, I realize that in the months that passed, I ended up learning more than I initially realized.

Here’s an excerpt of that article, depicting that experience:

Waiting outside the dojo adjusting my mouthpiece like a horse trying to acclimate to its first bit, I quietly prepared myself, breathing slowly and deeply. After my name was called, I was ushered into a circle of black belts standing around a plastic red padded floor until I stood face to face with my opponent – one of the toughest, most intense sensei’s I have encountered as a martial arts student. Our heads were swallowed up by the protective foam of our sparring gear, exposing only eyes, cheeks, noses and lips.

After bowing to each other, we began to spar. I threw a few of the punches I’d practiced every week in karate class and managed to get some kicks in. But for every strike I made, it seemed my sensei threw at least three more. I continued to circle, launching a few more tentative jabs here and there. The black belts surrounding us were shouting encouragement, their voices merging into chords of indistinguishable tones. And then I felt a sharp blow to my face. I instinctively curled toward my stomach and felt a burst of fluid that was not yet visible. When the blood appeared, the sparring session was stopped and a hand appeared with a wad of Kleenex in it.

As I cautiously dabbed at my nose and wiped my eyes, someone asked me if I wanted to continue. I heard myself say yes. Squinting through the sweat that was dripping from my forehead and feeling my heart beating in my face, I raised my gloved fists higher and took a few more shots. Before I knew it, I was taken to the ground. I was vaguely aware that there was at least one, maybe two other black belts in the sparring match now. As I grappled on the ground, fatigue set in. I struggled to escape the choke hold, forgetting everything I had learned and feeling like a spider’s prey wriggling and writhing to escape while the grip became tighter. And then, thankfully, that part of the test was over.

I wrote the Tapping Your Reserves article to process that experience and make the most of it.  Ironically, despite the insights I gained, in the months that followed I found myself feeling far more fear about what happened than I did on the day that I got punched in the nose.  The experience became exaggerated in my mind, a horribly warped version much like the image reflected by a fun house mirror.  The sense of accomplishment I enjoyed after having completed the test was replaced by a fixation on what it felt like to be trapped with no recollection of how to escape.  I felt the blow to my face over and over again as I replayed the events in my mind.  And it was far more painful in my memory than it was in reality.

What is amusing to me is that often fear like this comes before an event – as I see in my mind’s eye all manner of things that could go wrong and then magnify it until it becomes a mental picture so horrid that I would do anything to avoid it.  But this time, I was using a somewhat fictional account of an actual event to work myself into a frenzy that led me to avoid the future based on a past that was more imaginary than real.  After all, when given the choice on the day of the test, I decided to jump back in and keep going after getting hit.  My hesitance about the whole thing didn’t really set in until after it was over.

As my kids’ team practices and dance rehearsals began to conflict with karate classes, I was secretly a little grateful that shuttling them from school to field to court to studio prevented me from attending with the regularity I once did. God forbid I would be asked to test again – to spar again.  No, not an experience I was eager to repeat.  Every time anyone referenced sparring in karate class, I felt a shudder go down my spine.  The idea of even putting protective gear on made me nauseous.  I became overly concerned with playing safe – doing whatever I could to avoid getting hit again.  But I knew at some point I would need to get over it and get back in the game.

Gradually I got tired of being scared, of holding myself back, of playing in the shadows.  I was still afraid, but found myself growing more and more eager to face those fears and step into them.  I began to pay careful attention in the strategy sessions that were being offered.  I started to envision a different scenario than the one I was previously playing out in my head.  And I even attended a special open sparring class just so that I could put myself in the experience of facing an opponent and replacing my fear with the tiniest shred of confidence I could muster.

A few weeks ago, I received an invitation to test again.  I accepted.  The test is this Saturday.

I’m nervous.  I’d like to be a little more prepared, and I realize that no matter how much I practice, the fear will still be there.  But I don’t need to give into it.  I just need to stand in its presence without letting it grip and control me.  And I think no matter what happens in this test – even if I get knocked out  cold or do something incredibly embarrassing, I will be victorious.  Because the real battle I am fighting is with myself.   And it’s not just a sparring match.  It is a metaphor for overcoming resistance (and the illusion it creates) that keeps me from doing what I really want to do in all areas of my life.

In the end, the pain of holding out and playing small became far greater than the physical pain I can recall from the event that provoked the fear in the first place – perhaps far greater than any fear my little mind can conjure up.  Enough already.  I’m ready to play.

Bring it on, baby.

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important.”  ~ Ambrose Redmoon

For more on Overcoming the Illusion of Fear:

The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming the Leader You Were Born to Be

Skiing Into (and Through) Fear

Surviving and Thriving in Change and Chaos

A Strategy for Overcoming Fear

A New Way to Look at Fear

Karate image by Kriss Szkurlatowski.

Fire head image by Salvatore Vuono. 

My Personal Career Comeback

Have you ever had a career disappointment that shook you to your core? I did, and it was early in my career. When it first happened, I was bitter, frustrated and scared. But what I ended up learning from the experience was pivotal to my future. And to this day, I am still grateful.

I know many people out there are enduring all kinds of career shakeups and also know that I am always heartened to hear stories of people who were able to take fairly lousy situations and find a way to benefit from them.  It is in this spirit that I share my story with you – (1) The Situation, (2) The Strategy, and (3) Lessons Learned.  Please feel free to share your own experiences, advice or questions by clicking on “Add a Comment” above.

THE SITUATION:

 

My first job after college was at an advertising agency. Having yet to arrive at the realization of what I wanted to do with my life, I took the job because it had elements of what I studied in college: English, business and communication – and because it sounded fun and interesting. I started as an administrative assistant with the promise that it wouldn’t be long before I would be promoted into something a bit more substantive.

Turns out advertising just wasn’t my thing. The work itself didn’t pique much interest in me, but I was intrigued with the organization and the people in it. Turnover was high, morale was low, and the customer was an afterthought. I knew that all that could be changed – that something could be done to allow people to feel more alive in their jobs, to ensure that the customer was happy, that the company was growing and profitable. So I got to work talking to people. I interviewed smart, ambitious entry level personnel, who felt discouraged and overlooked when the jobs they were working toward were filled by people from outside of the company.

I talked to new creative staff and account executives who came in and hit the ground running, knowing little about the agency or its customer. I spoke with seasoned executives who lamented that no one seemed to care about what was most important anymore. I integrated all their insights, ideas and suggestions with my own observations and created a proposal to implement a program that would allow seasoned people to train and mentor newer folks, better integrate with the customer, and grow the business from within.

Knowing little about corporate politics, I went straight to the VP of Operations with my proposal to create the program and allow me to run it. He listened intently, asked several questions, and arranged subsequent meetings with others in the company. It wasn’t long before a position was created. My boss at the time, who wasn’t impressed with my lack of passion for being an administrative assistant or the fact that I went over her head with my proposal (which I never even told her I was working on) was outraged.

She called upon her networks to put a stop to things. A few days later I was told that while the company was going to create the position and launch the program I proposed, because of all the controversy, they could not allow me to head it up. I was crushed. I remember walking across the agency’s glossy floors and out the tall glass double doors of the building, burning with animosity, rage, and frustration at the seeming injustice of it all.

THE STRATEGY:

 

In the weeks that followed my indignant resignation, the anger and bitterness gradually released me from its grip and I began to feel a sense of calm clarity. I was onto something here. Maybe there was a way that I could work with corporations, organizations and people themselves to bring out their latent talent and harness it in a way that could contribute to a common goal. I went to the local bookstore and bought a copy of What Color is Your Parachute and dedicated myself to doing the soul searching exercises there and taking action to learn about work and potential opportunities that were more aligned with my core talents, interests and passions.

Somewhere in my search I discovered that in many corporations there was a department called organization development that employed people to do the kind of things I tried to do at the advertising agency, and more of the kind of work that truly excited and inspired me. I began to ask around and find people who actually did these jobs. Some of them were people that friends of mine knew. I began to interview them, asking about how they got started, what they loved and didn’t love so much about their jobs, and what advice they would have for someone like me who wanted to break into the field. At the end of every interview, I asked for the names and numbers of three more people they would recommend I speak with. I ended up building a pretty great network and it wasn’t long before one of the people I spoke with called me with an opportunity to do an internship at a local hospital in their organization development department.

I was thrilled and ended up learning the ropes from incredibly talented mentors who allowed me to take part in projects that were intriguing, challenging and incredibly rewarding. I was an intern for less than a year before I was offered a permanent position doing satisfying and empowering work I didn’t even realize was out there when I was scratching my head back in college trying to answer the question of what I wanted to do with my life. And each subsequent opportunity I have had has helped me further refine and hone what I love to do into a career that lights me up allows me to continue to grow and evolve.

LESSONS LEARNED:

 

Among the many things I learned from that experience are the following:

• That defining moment led me on a search that would allow me to find ways to do more of the work that beckoned to me. It launched a chain of events that has led me to learn more about myself and make the most of experiences that would further prepare me for the work that I do now. And I am grateful – so completely and utterly grateful – that it happened, though at the time I thought it was the worst possible thing.
• Sometimes the biggest disappointments are actually precursors to the most amazing opportunities. I learned not to allow my frustration, anger and sadness (even if it is justified) to blind me to what is knocking on my door. I learned to let myself be angry for a short period if I need to and then challenge myself to figure out what positive action to take to get closer to where I really want to be. I try to focus my energy and attention into moving toward something I want rather than away from something I don’t want.
• It’s okay if I don’t know exactly what I want to do with my life. This experience taught me that anything I do will prepare me for whatever I’ll do next. I may not know exactly the kind of work that is my best fit until I see what is out there and notice what excites me and what doesn’t. If I can find a way to love the job I’m in, I will benefit by learning more about myself and developing skills that I will be able to use anywhere I go.
• I realized that I don’t necessarily have to leave my job or the company I work for to do something that I love. If I pay attention to what intrigues me and take action to align my natural curiosities and talents with the unmet needs I see wherever I am, it’s possible that the solutions I propose could land me a whole new role – one that is custom designed for me, even when there are no jobs posted on the company’s internal job board.
• I learned the importance of being willing to take a risk and let go of needing my career to turn out exactly the way I think it should. Even though I initially thought the risk I took ended in failure when I didn’t get the position I helped create, it ended up opening my eyes to opportunities I didn’t even know existed. It prepared me for a career in an organization that was far more aligned with my interests and values.

Future photo by graur razvan ionut from FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Light bulb photo by Pixomar from FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Open mind photo by Idea go from FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

For more on Career Comebacks:

 

The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming the Leader You Were Born to Be

Navigating Sudden Change

Leveraging Chaos

Leading Through Uncertainty

Embracing Life’s Uncertainty

Navigating Sudden Change

Ever notice that just when you get comfortable, life has a way of shaking things up? Some people seem to enjoy change more than others. Most of us prefer to be the ones doing the changing – it brings newness along with a sense of control – we are at the helms, steadfastly steering our ships. But imagine if you will, that a massive wave summoned by a hurricane has ripped the captain’s wheel right off the ship and you are left clinging to something that no longer has any power. The tighter you grip it, the less energy you have to deal with your circumstances in a way that will truly serve you (and everyone around you as well).

At times like these, we often pray for the storm to pass – for things to revert back to the way they were – or for a specific course of events that we believe would be life’s perfect solution. These solutions are based on what we think we know – which is largely a product of what we have already seen and experienced. And relying upon the patterns and strategies that worked for us in the past is often inadequate for our present and emerging challenges.

The world is changing and so are we.

We tend to strive for comfort and familiarity, even when what’s comfortable isn’t necessarily effective or even satisfying anymore. We wish and pray that the chaos be removed and order be restored. But often life’s little disturbances are exactly what we need to reach our true potential and escape complacency. Perhaps as Eckhardt Tolle wrote in The Power of Now, “…what’s appears to be in the way IS the way.”

Stormy seas (and life’s sudden surprises) have a way of testing our resolve and our resiliency. Pressure brings out our extremes – for better or worse. And fear does funny things to people. At its worst, it produces panic – a physical state that literally disables the brain’s ability to think clearly. At one extreme a person is frozen by fear and at the other he will thrash about like a drowning victim who pulls his rescuers under the water with him. The key to surviving a seeming assault of this kind is learning to relax and stay calmly aware of our surroundings so that we can identify and creatively utilize the resources at our disposal.

One of the most critical resources in our control when all else seems beyond it is our perspective. The way in which we view things determines the story we tell ourselves about what’s happening, which directly influences the responses we will have. If we believe we are helpless victims at the mercy of something that seeks to destroy us, we will become bitter, resentful and apathetic. In this state our true power remains dormant. We collude with our view of reality to create a condition that validates our doomsday stories and sink even deeper into the abyss. Those who try to rescue us from our self imposed paralysis risk being dragged beneath the current created by our own negativity.

If, however, we view our predicaments as adventures and see them as opportunities to give things all we’ve got, we reach deeply within ourselves and tap reserves of courage, wisdom and ingenuity we never realized we had. In the proverbial belly of the whale we find our inner grit and creatively rise up to life’s challenges in ways that transform us and everyone around us as well. We become the heroes of our own stories.

Regardless of who you are and what you do, there will come a time when the plateau you have been walking upon takes a steep turn in one direction or the other and you will be required to do something that stretches you beyond your usual way of doing things.

Perhaps it will be in your career. The work that fulfilled you at one point in your life may no longer be enough. You might find yourself doing something very well but suddenly devoid of the gusto you once did it with. It could be the company you keep – people who at one time shared your interests and passions but who you suddenly find yourself no longer wanting to spend a lot of time with. Maybe it will be your lifestyle. The objects and material possessions you that once gave you joy could one day feel more like clutter or distractions. These things become like shells that the hermit crab has outgrown. The crab must release its previous home and step bravely and vulnerably into the unknown in order to find something more spacious.

The quest for a new shell and even the new shell itself may feel daunting, clumsy and overwhelming. But the act of letting go of the old to make room for the new allows us to evolve and realize our true potential. Anything less will ultimately become imprisoning. When we allow ourselves room to grow, life’s little and big disturbances are not so daunting. We know there is more to us than meets the eye and finally step into our own greatness. And as we do this for ourselves, we model the way for others to do the same.

The above article contains excerpts from my new book, The Pinocchio Principle: Becoming the Leader You Were Born to Be, available on Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com.

 

For more on Navigating Sudden Change:

Riding the Wave of Chaos

Leveraging Chaos

Leading Through Uncertainty

Embracing Life’s Uncertainty

Ship photo by 1971yes from Bigstock.com.

Hermit crab photo by porbital from FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Skiing Into (and Through) Fear

Have you ever found yourself in a situation where you suddenly realized you were in way over your head?  Maybe you weren’t sure you were ever going to get through it and had no idea what to do.  This week’s video post is about an experience I had like that – on the ski slopes.  It’s something I remember whenever I find myself in a jam, or consumed by fear or worry.  I hope you enjoy it!

 

Here’s what I said in the video:

A few years ago I had the opportunity to go snow skiing, which I love to do and hadn’t done in years. I couldn’t wait to hit the slopes, and I knew I needed to start slowly because it had been a really long time. So I started off with easy runs and it wasn’t long before I said, “The heck with this, I’m going straight for the black run.”

I picked a run and got to the top of the hill. After pushing myself off and getting about a third of the way down I realized, “Oh my God, this is SO over my head!” There were moguls everywhere. I’m talking about three foot in diameter and about three foot high little hills — all next to each other.

To make things worse the slope of the hill was almost vertical. It was awful. I got about a third of the way down the hill and realized this was a mistake. I looked up and knew I couldn’t climb back to the top. And just at that moment this fog rolled in — fog so thick I felt like I could grab it and hold it in my hand. I couldn’t see more than three feet in front of me.

I panicked. All I wanted to do was get down the mountain. So I thought, “OK. I’m just going to go for it.” I pushed off and plop, came smacking down to the ground, skis flying in different directions. And then it took me 20 minutes to find them because I couldn’t see anything. I finally got my skis back on and tried it again and thwhap — same thing.

I thought, “I just have to figure this out from where I’m at.” I realized just about all I could see was the mogul in front of me and if I could just ski around the edge of the mogul and bend my legs in such a way that they absorbed the shock, I was able to get around that mogul and stop. Then I could look at the next mogul, ski around the edge of that and stop. I was making some progress. And then I looked down toward the end of the mountain and guess what? Totally wiped out again.

I realized,  “If I’m ever going to make it down this mountain I’m going to have to forget about reaching the bottom and take one mogul at a time and trust that I’m going to know exactly what I need to know how to make it — one mogul at a time.”

What I learned from that is to get out of fear you can’t go back into the past, and you can’t get preoccupied with what needs to happen in the future. You have to stay right in the moment and take it one moment at a time. And when you do, you will have everything you need to get through it.

You have everything you need in this moment.
You’ll have everything you need in the next moment too.
BE where you are.

 

Mountain photo by Sarah Nicholl from Dreamstime.com.