The Wisdom of Uncertainty and "The Circle"

Happily, my recent retirement frees me to do some things I've always wanted to do, like attending last week's Conference on World Affairs (CWA) at CU in Boulder, the renowned “conference on everything conceivable.”

I was inspired by one standing room only session entitled "The Wisdom of Uncertainty."  The panelists did a great job of outlining the human dilemma in which we dislike uncertainty and take Herculean measures to avoid it, even though "not knowing" and questioning the basic assumptions we’re constantly making can be the very best path to renewed creativity, innovation, and growth.  They also pointed out that every amazing new breakthrough in science occurs when someone decides that they don’t know something, tosses out assumptions, and sets out to learn the truth.  One panelist asked the audience who had seen a sunset – and then explained that none of us had, since the sun doesn’t set, although the phenomenon that looks like the sun setting was only recently understood correctly after the "certainty" that the sun revolves around the earth was questioned.

The panelists also pointed out that there's a difference between confidence and absolute certainty.  For example, you can be confident that your efforts to write a blog will bear fruit, despite a case of writer's block from hell, even though you're not certain exactly what you'll come up with or whether the topic will remotely match your initial concept.  Uncertainty can pave the way toward new connections and ideas.

Speaking of “not knowing,” I just finished an unsettling novel by David Eggers called "The Circle" about a social media company in Silicon Valley that has absorbed all its relatively feeble predecessors (Facebook, Google) and metastasized into a behemoth organization with leaders Quite Certain that their innovations can solve all the problems of the world once they are able to “close the circle” by collecting and tying together all information and making it fully available and transparent to everyone for the greater good of humanity.  Thus, employees are encouraged and ultimately coerced where necessary to constantly share their perceptions and feelings. In fact, privacy is considered insubordinate since it robs everyone of the information and transparency needed to resolve problems and prevent wrong doing.

The novel’s protagonist is new hire Mae, a young woman the company immediately sets out to indoctrinate and who at one point is even led during a company-wide meeting to publicly utter the 1984-style maxims of The Circle:

SECRETS ARE LIES

SHARING IS CARING

PRIVACY IS THEFT

Mae is relentlessly pressured to share more and more of her most private thoughts and experiences, from intimate encounters to medical data.  At a couple of points I felt claustrophobic enough to put the book down and get a breath of fresh air, wishing Mae could do the same.

Kayaking on the bay, Mae escapes a couple of times to that most precious source of centering, solitude and peace, nature.  She paddles to an island, climbs a tree, wonders about the content of a bird’s nest and decides she cannot know this information without disturbing the nest and its inhabitants and so foregoes the knowledge. For a short while she remembers to breathe and acknowledges the value in "not knowing" what's in the nest or below her in the dark depths of the bay as she kayaks back to shore.

But she quickly gets in trouble at work for this, since being alone and not sharing information about her experience are viewed to be willful and selfish acts, unsupportive of the world view The Circle's leadership is so certain is correct.

I can recall a few times in my own career when I saw the same level of arrogant, absolute certainty from leaders, feeling both amazed and disquieted by it.  There is a wisdom in uncertainty, in seeing the world from constantly fresh perspectives and questioning self-limiting assumptions. In the end I would rather lean that way than walk around absolutely certain about life, the universe and everything. 

Also, it occurs to me that perhaps I’ve been way too lackadaisical up to this point about the question of privacy.  When carried to the extreme where it's socially unacceptable not to constantly share, the value of what is shared seems diminished--better to live with a greater degree of uncertainty.

In Praise of Not Knowing

As I continue to figure things out in my new job, I've been interested to observe how horrified I am at the many things I don't understand. I keep beating myself up for not knowing the solutions right away, and have forgotten to feel the joy of learning new things and experiencing the unexpected surprises, insights and connections that come with not knowing.

Acknowledging my not knowing, I changed my password for awhile to a number and symbol ridden form of "humility." Because of some mysterious security configurations at work that require me to enter my password repeatedly throughout the day when I switch environments, I ended up typing the word again and again like a mantra: humility humility humility.

Humility: the quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one's importance, rank, etc. dictionary.com

Humility: the absence of any feelings of being better than others. merriam-webster.com

I have a horror of being considered a know-it-all (although I know sometimes I come across that way nonetheless). So perhaps I lean too far in the opposite direction, acknowledging my not knowing too quickly; not a stellar way to gain the confidence of colleagues with strong intellects who take great pride in, by God, knowing.

Buddhists speak of "not knowing" as the greater wisdom. Acknowledging not knowing makes space for new knowledge; see the famous fable about the university professor, the wise monk, and the overflowing teacup. Remembering to let go of the need to know everything is liberating and opens up the possibility for new and surprising insights.

I have the acknowledgement of not knowing down pretty well. And now I have to stop apologizing for it. Knowing when I don’t know may be one of my most valuable qualities.

Eschewing Techie Twinkies

"Moderation in all things - including moderation." - Mark Twain

Too much of a good thing...are social networks, computers, and mobile devices of all stripes robbing us of our opportunity to truly connect with each other and with nature as well as our basic ability to think in depth?
An article in the Sunday Boulder Daily Camera called "The Technology Diet" likens our constant high tech connectedness to a fast food addiction. Some folks, even 20-somethings, are going off the grid completely, seeking to again hear themselves think and get to a point where they can read a book steadily for more than a few minutes without checking email and Facebook.

The article mentions Lewis Mitchell Neef who has posted about Internet craving and the damage it does in his "Adrenal Fatigue Project," a "satire on the pointless blurbs of misinformation that the Internet constantly bombards us with, inducing a heightened awareness and fatigue." Neef urges not to drop out completely but to "use your time wisely and be present" (good advice under any circumstances). Use the Internet to find real connections and further good causes.

Also mentioned is Laleh Mehran's and Chris Coleman's W3fi movement (pronounced "wee-fy"), showcased recently at the Boulder Museum of Contemporary Art. They outline a three-step approach for being productive and avoiding mayhem on the Internet: know yourself online, be aware how your actions affect others, and know how you can connect with others positively and productively.

Andrew Weil has written another of his excellent down-to-earth books recently called Spontaneous Happiness on finding happiness in the modern world and one of his prime recommendations is to limit digital distractions and seek more connection with others and with nature to find the peace and sense of well-being we all seek.

There was a time I remember, my children, when we didn't carry around cell phones, when we didn't have something called a "digital presence on-line," when we read more, made our own music, had real conversations with each other.

I'm becoming more mindful of that lonely state I find myself in sometimes late at night, continually seeking something real online, long past the point of exhaustion, looking for truth in all the wrong places. That's a strong signal that it's time to power off and tune back in to real life.

Authenticity and Facebook

"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."

Mark Twain

I found an interesting article in the New York Times last Sunday about authenticity, especially on-line. (Anybody who's been around for awhile surely recalls the old cartoon about how "nobody knows you're a dog when you're on the Internet.") Everybody these days seems to be professing authenticity, a big topic of discussion in connection with the many GOP presidential candidates. One thing I'm pretty certain about: the truly authentic don't have to announce it to the world.

The article mentions Facebook--how it is usually our presentation of "ourselves on our best day." And that a typical person's post is an attempt, consciously or not, to sell him or herself. I think Facebook is a little more complicated than that; people who post are driven by one or more motivations including the need to publicly reveal:

- the best possible face

- a singular item expected to awe/amaze/amuse

- a whine, with the hope for sympathy

- an opinion, with the hope that many will agree with it

- a series of compulsively recorded details about every day life in a ploy for attention

- a polite, dutiful periodic comment in order not to appear to be too much of a lurking voyeur

- a short response to someone else's post to demonstrate solidarity and/or some level of participation in life

There are probably many other modes--do people even think about it anymore? Or is Facebook so ubiquitous at this point that asking these questions is like asking what "mode" somebody is in when they use a telephone or send an email?

I think the underlying motivation is to connect with other people in some way, but without any great investment of time, energy or commitment. However, this basic need to connect is authentic, no? Even though the "face" people present on Facebook may not be truly accurate or authentic, it does give people a way to maintain at least a very low grade connection with others. And so Facebook has redeeming value because it allows people to stay connected albeit in a very superficial way for the most part.

So, back to authenticity--how to define it? Is it telling the truth no matter what, even if it does more harm than good? I think it's telling yourself the truth, and acting in close concert with your most deeply held values, no matter what the cost. Given this, mentioning authenticity and presidential candidates in the same breath seems highly contradictory.

Bad Moods Are Like Secondhand Smoke

I am not an overly moody person most of the time, although I admit I do have my moments. Lately it seems I'm surrounded by moody people, however: people with lots of ups and downs, people who are easily angered by the unavoidable black flies in the chardonnay of life (with a shout out to Alanis), people who are never satisfied, cynics and pessimists of all stripes, people who take work too seriously or not seriously enough. Stop. Wait! This is becoming a moody list of Things That Really Piss Me Off and that is not the topic of this blog.

The topic of this blog is the impact of one person's bad mood on those in the vicinity. Especially those very black moods that twist and curl their sinuous ways around our heads before we have time to move away. Like secondhand smoke, they are inflicted by one thoughtless, oblivious person on others, sometimes many others, in no time at all. The impact of a dark mood on others is hard to undo, even more so if the moody person holds great power either through love or authority.

Knowing all this, I try to be mindful of my own attitudes and moods (especially the darkest ones) and stifle myself where appropriate. Perhaps there should be a special glassed-in area set aside where people with bad moods can go to unleash their secondhand miseries on each other after which they could return to civilized society with only the faint odor of bleakness lingering on their persons like a cheap perfume.

Life is a shipwreck but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats. - Voltaire. 

Kaizen

Lately I've been mindful of Kaizen, the Japanese concept of continual, incremental improvement. The first step with Kaizen both at work and at home is awareness: clearly seeing the possibilities for improvement.

Since improvement is incremental with small measured experiments to check progress, the concept of Kaizen can overcome that sinking feeling that "this mess is way too big to tackle." It does require a degree of trust, optimism, and faith in oneself and other people, however, since very often an improvement can't be made without some agreement and cooperation from the larger group. Open, frequent communication is essential to Kaizen.

I had a conversation with a colleague who was new to one of our teams at work yesterday. I was (from my perspective, of course) attempting to communicate the benefits of working well across teams, explaining the history behind why this federated group of teams had joined together for common goals, how important it was to maintain respect and collaboration across these teams. "I want you to be successful on this team," I said at one point as I was trying to convince her to be more mindful of how her actions were impacting the group as a whole. "I'm already successful," she snapped back. Just one time in my life I would like to feel that kind of certitude, but I don't think it would help me for the long haul. To understand why, keep reading.

How can you be successful without considering the team as a whole? Kaizen assumes that the group works together to identify ways to improve quality and efficiency, and then incrementally implements these steps, testing progress at each step. It doesn't work well for those who don't want to acknowledge mutual dependencies.

I was heartened the other day during a team retrospective meeting to hear a respected and brilliant software architect comment that very early team communication about how a task will be accomplished can help guide it the right way from the beginning and can therefore reduce waste of time and resource. But this takes time up front, and some patience, and the natural urge to proactively communicate. Not everybody is born able to do this. It has to be encouraged and developed.

My dentist (of all people) has a saying his staff quotes during lectures about proper dental hygiene: "The trouble with communication is that people think it's happened."

True everywhere in life. If you think you know what's going on already, and if you're absolutely positive you're on the right track, you don't bother to ask, and you jump straight to a solution that may have little to do with addressing the root cause of a problem. I've done this so many times I've lost count. But at least I'm mindful of the trap.

My Kaizen thought for the day: ask five whys to understand a difficult problem, and always question what you think you already know.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Tiny Bubbles

Though life is made up of mere bubbles

'Tis better than many aver,

For while we've a whole lot of troubles

The most of them never occur.

Nixon Waterman

I spotted an interesting article called "20 Questions That Could Change Your Life" a few days ago--it recommended questions a woman should ask herself on a regular basis in order to have a full and happy life.

The last question listed is, basically, "Really, truly -- is this what I want to be doing? And what could I do to make this moment more delightful?" I was in my office on a Friday on the last of the week's day-long conference calls with people in distant time zones, my joints creaking from sitting way too long in one position, and I asked myself this question. I gazed around the office and my eyes settled on a tiny green plastic container shaped like a champagne bottle that I'd gotten as part of my 20-year work anniversary a year ago. I picked up the little bottle which held a soapy solution and had a tiny bubble-blowing wand attached to the inside of the cap.

As I continued to listen to the call, I blew bubbles, lots of bubbles, which floated briefly in the sunlight in my office like little beacons of joy. I glanced over at the small fountain I have on a corner of my desk surrounded by six tiny laughing buddhas. And I smiled.

Otherwise

Up on the Hill in Boulder across 13^th from Buchanan’s Coffee Pub is a small storefront papered over with poetry and a sign that promises “Innisfree Poetry Bookstore and Café, opening soon.”  The website also mentions an opening in early November, but previous signs have promised October—I am hoping for the best since I think the world has far too few Poetry Bookstore/Café combinations.  A few days ago this poem was posted in the window in large letters:

Otherwise

 Jane Kenyon

I got out of bed

on two strong legs.

It might have been

otherwise. I ate

cereal, sweet

milk, ripe, flawless

peach. It might

have been otherwise.

I took the dog uphill

to the birch wood.

All morning I did

the work I love.

At noon I lay down

with my mate. It might

have been otherwise.

We ate dinner together

at a table with silver

candlesticks. It might

have been otherwise.

I slept in a bed

in a room with paintings

on the walls, and

planned another day

just like this day.

But one day, I know,

it will be otherwise.

Some might say this poem is bleak or ominous – but I choose to see it more in terms of a reminder to be grateful and joyous about the present.  The poem represents a feeling that haunts me, but at the same time is the key that will set me free, because the choice is always either fear of losing all you hold dear or love and gratitude for all you have right now.  Every morning I wake up and choose one way or the other--and that choice makes a big difference in my frame of mind for the day.

This is an idea that I didn’t think about in my 20s that I can remember, and also an idea that may be foreign to many 20-somethings today.  But after much loss and challenge in my life, this idea is now at the forefront of my mind.  The most important point is that this is a choice, each moment of each day. 

Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Life is but a Dream

Ever drifting down the stream--

Lingering in the golden gleam--

Life, what is it but a dream?                    

                        Lewis Carroll

I’m plowing through Stephen King’s Dark Tower series this summer and just finished book four, “Wizards and Glass.”  A key theme and phrase in these books is “there are other worlds than these,” and there are many instances in the series where characters move in and out of worlds and times in a dreamlike fashion where death is not an absolute and people are never quite who they at first appear to be.  Also, I recently saw Christopher Nolan’s “Inception,” in which Leonardo DiCaprio plays a thief who can move in and out of his own and others’ dreams—but when can he be absolutely sure he’s not dreaming?

In both of the worlds created by these fantasies a person to some degree is able to choose his dream.  In the Dark Tower, Roland the Gunslinger seizes  opportunities to move between worlds (or are they dreams after all?) in his obsessive search for the Tower.  In “Inception,” DiCaprio’s Cobb character moves between dream worlds as easily as pressing a floor button in an elevator, choosing to invade the dreams of others and even plant ideas in those dreams with dangerous and tragic results.  In the end he must choose to return from a dream he’s having trouble letting go of but which he knows is destroying him.  And in the end, is his chosen world just another dream, albeit a happier one?

It seems our experience of life is defined by our perception of it, so we can choose our dream—but it’s so damn hard to keep that in mind (as is the case when you are actually dreaming, especially during a nightmare).  It’s difficult to be mindful that we have far more space and choice than we perceive, and that we can choose to swim up through the murky water toward the surface and the light rather than succumb to the illusion we’re drowning. 

The other thing it’s hard to keep in mind is that everybody else is in their own dream, in various states of unconsciousness or wakefulness, and that their dreams are not yours, or vice versa. 

Nothing is quite what it seems on the surface.  If we’re not awake enough, we box ourselves and other people in with assumptions, “truths,” “limitations” that are not real.  If only we could have a way to jog the memory like Cobb does in “Inception”--to spin the little top to help us see what is real.  On the other hand, if we’re happy and at peace, isn’t that all the real we need?

Inverness at South Padre Island

“If there is anything you need and don’t see, please let us know…and we will show you how to do without it.” - Sign on the bathroom wall in the Inverness condo at South Padre Island

And after a few days at Inverness I see that I have everything I need. Maybe it was the constant sound of the surf, or the sleepy heat of the beach between wind bursts, or the 11th floor balcony looking out toward the infinite ocean horizon, or the large sign under the big-screen TV that said “RELAX.” In any event I feel like I can smile easily again and have had a good rest.

I found time to do things like bend myself backward in repeated attempts to capture pictures of seagulls and pelicans in flight from my bird’s eye perch on the 11th floor. And to just sit by the ocean and listen to the waves and read and read and read and read for hours on end. And to let the heat reflected off the sand soak into me and then to finally swim in the salty cool waters, dodging the clumps of seaweed. And repeat. And also to be rested enough to be willing to get up in the middle of the night to observe the thunderstorm and light show out at sea. And again in the morning to arise and gaze down the shimmering path of light leading to the sunrise over the water.

We call it a “vacation” in the U.S. which sounds so empty and clinical. I prefer the European word for it. Believe me, they know how to take time off, and they call it “going on holiday.”

What Not to Say

“Silence is the true friend that never betrays.” - Confucius

Silence is underrated. I’m a very verbal person so I almost always have something to say. I have been focusing more lately on examining things I want to say and following Sai Baba’s mindful recommendation:

"Before you speak, ask yourself: Is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve the silence?"

I believe this is a great approach to apply especially in cases where you are struggling to let go—of a grown child who is making his or her own way, of an employee who is smart enough to know what she’s doing and rarely needs your guidance, or of a loved one who is standing strong after a rough period.

In each case, saying less rather than more contributes to their growing strength and self-confidence. Unsolicited advice is an example of “helping” that doesn’t really help, and is one of my worst vices. Advice on every topic comes spewing out of me like a Gulf Bay gusher, and once it starts up it’s hard to cap. I need the Kevin Costner solution—some kind of machine that chugs away efficiently separating the messy, oily crap from the clear ocean water of support and love.

When I’m in doubt, I have found that staying silent listening carefully is often the best course; it’s amazing how much I learn that I didn’t understand before. Try it. Oops – that may have been unsolicited advice. Oh well.

I Stress, Eustress, We All Stress

I learned a new word from a friend’s blog recently: Eustress. It means “good stress,” as opposed to the opposite kind, distress. It’s the kind of stress that’s supposed to give you a positive feeling of fulfillment. Examples might be getting a promotion at your job, childbirth, riding a roller coaster. The challenge is that your body reacts pretty much the same to either eustress or distress; the whole key then is to learn how to adapt to change whether positive or negative.

My “How I Stay Sane” blogs are all about some of the various approaches I’ve discovered for adapting to change and being awake enough to find equilibrium through these changes. It ain’t easy, I know that much. Despite all my efforts it’s still a challenge when I face the inevitable unknowns implied by major life change.

One of the most immediately helpful techniques I’ve found is to focus on the here and now, and finding little ways I can make the world a better place right this second as I take the next small step in my life. If I’m headed somewhere on business and I’m worried about how well I might fare on this trip, it helps me to break the planning for the journey and the journey itself down into very small steps in which I strive to be completely present and do the very best I can each step of the way.

I check my bag and tip the guy a little extra; when he wishes me a good day I look him in the eye, smile, and return the favor. I smile again as I help the young mother who has just dropped the diaper bag near the top of the escalator and is looking lost and flustered; I steer her to the nearby elevator that will be much easier for her and her toddler. I speak calmly to the tiny elderly lady in the seat next to mine whose eyes are large and whose hands are shaking a little as she tells me this is her very first flight. As the plan takes off, I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and remember a peaceful walk through the forest I took awhile back.

These are all little choices that make the world a tiny bit better for me and often for those around me. They take me outside my inner world of anxiety and what-ifs and disaster scenarios and help me remember the Desiderata mantra: No doubt things are unfolding as they should. They work for both types of stress: the distress of a flight back home to help a very sick family member, and perhaps the eustress a person might feel about a flight to San Francisco to start an exciting two-month internship in a genetics lab.

What are your methods for dealing with *stress?

A Cup of Tea

Yesterday I observed someone I work closely with demonstrate the same kind of egoless approach to work that I strongly support. One technical group was suggesting that another group’s plan and architecture were very risky and questionable. Since the level of dependency on this component was high for the project, there were concerns. The leader of the questioning group stepped in to say, essentially, that both groups should mind their own business and trust that the other group was doing the right thing. But the leader of the group under question responded that we were all fortunate to have access to many bright minds in our company, and that his group would welcome whatever further review and refinement of their plans might be needed.

Instead of taking offense, or going on the attack, he responded with an open mind, ready to hear what he and his group might not already know.

This is the kind of approach I believe in and try to practice myself, that is, setting aside ego to make progress. Some might view it as passivity and weakness—but to me it represents confidence and strength, and my admiration for the individual who took this approach rose considerably. I’ve found that this is ultimately the better course and one of the ways of maintaining high integrity and a clear sense of my true north. Seeing it in another person at work made me feel downright happy and almost as though I fit in, although not quite.

At home and at work I strive with varying degrees of success to really listen to people. I find that I am least productive when I am only half listening to what somebody is saying, assuming I already know what they’re explaining. This happens more often when I’m multi-tasking, a nefariously unproductive habit that rarely ends well.

An oft-told Zen story comes to mind, about the university professor who goes to see the Zen master to learn the meaning of life. After a lengthy and not necessarily productive exchange, the master pauses to pour a cup of tea, and continues pouring as the tea overflows the cup. Finally his visitor says, “Stop. Stop. It is already full!” And the Zen master says, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

How I Stay Sane, Part IV: Awake at Work

Recently I’ve seen a lot of change at work.

“What else is new?” you might ask. “Haven’t you learned by now in your lengthy career that change is the only constant?” Well, these particular changes are larger than usual, resulting in my managing totally different people and product groups, and with a new angle focusing on quality assurance rather than product development.

The opportunity for learning and growth is huge. And I have much to learn, which can be very stressful.

To stay sane and strong, I’m using a number of tried and true coping mechanisms, one of which is to re-read a marvelous book by Michael Carroll, “Awake at Work: 35 Practical Buddhist Principles for Discovering Clarity and Balance in the Midst of Work’s Chaos.”

You don’t have to be a practicing Buddhist (I am not--I am more of a dabbler) for these principles to be useful. The main point is that clarity can be gained by slowing down just long enough to become present and mindful of what’s going on in the present moment—by being “who we are, where we are right now,” as Carroll puts it.

This mindfulness allows curiosity to replace fear and hope (both of which can cause painful and futile resistance to the reality of the present moment). A calm curiosity can bring unexpected insights about what’s really going on at work and how to better deal with it.

Here are three principles that particularly ring true for me in my reading of the book this time around--although there are many others I find just as helpful:

“Work is a mess.”

“Power is unnerving.”

“First to pacify, last to destroy.”

First, “work is a mess.” Accept that unpredictable surprises and messes are inevitable. Instead of panicing, blaming, or regretting, seize these opportunities to find creative solutions. As Sun Tzu said, victory is achieved not through the execution of previously laid out plans but by being relaxed, open and awake at that moment when surprise strikes—and then trusting your natural intelligence and instincts to know what to do in these crazy moments.

Secondly, “power is unnerving.” As I become accustomed to working with new figures of authority, many of whom seem absolutely certain at all times that they are correct, and at the same time become the new boss for other people who are meeting me for the first time, it is good to remember that authority, either ours or someone else’s, can cause great stress and discomfort. But these very sensations are a signal to be ever more mindful, alert, precise--and to focus on the moment, allowing it to be okay if we’re uncertain, heeding that very uncertainty as a signal to remain fully mindful. (Another principle related to this one is to “welcome the tyrant. ” A bully at work may be just the thing to wake you up and focus you on being right here, right now—allowing revelations you never would have had otherwise).

“First to pacify, last to destroy” is the third concept. Four methods for dealing with conflict are presented, and I find that these are so much a part of my natural instincts that is it great to see them written down and validated. The first is to begin by “pacifying”—being curious rather than resistant to the conflict and listening to discover the other person’s viewpoint. The second is “enriching”-- looking for ways to support another person rather than focusing more narrowly on our own objectives alone--looking for the win/win, the higher level common goal. The third approach Carroll calls “magnetizing”—focusing on compromise, gaining agreement and support, which can only be done by having first addressed the previous two concepts and understanding where the other person is coming from and how you can support that other person’s goals as part of the solution.

The final method for dealing with conflict is “destroying.” This is the hardest one for me—the ability to say no during conflict and walk away if necessary. The point here is that by exercising the previous methods first (pacifying, enriching, magnetizing), there’s a foundation for finding the strength to walk away—not in anger or hate, but as a last resort after all else has failed, knowing you did your best. And, as I’ve always believed, this measure should only be taken as the last resort. Not all people in business believe this; some hold the view that “tough” management can only be demonstrated with an easy willingness to destroy first. But I agree with the idea that being “first to pacify, last to destroy” is the true hallmark of wisdom and courage. Even so, you’ve got to be ready to confidently take this measure when the situation calls for it.

If you are seeking new ways to look at work, get this book--and let me know what you think.

Here and Now at The Laughing Goat

I spend part of the morning at my new favorite coffeehouse, The Laughing Goat. Near Pearl and 17th, the coffee is great and the ambience hits a sweet spot for me somehow. I usually sit at the front tables to soak up the sun’s warmth. The tabletops are a subtle rich mixture of orange-brown-green metallic color. A sign over the espresso bar says “Be Nice or Leave”, and further down the bar the light fixtures are covered with a warm orange-brown crinkly fabric that reminds me of Cecropia moth cocoons. Flyers advertise poetry night on Monday evenings, the Beat Bookstore a few doors down, live Jazz on Wednesday nights, and more.  The walls are black-painted cinder block and artwork in orange and turquoise covers the walls. There is a Buddhist shrine in the front window with an orange shroud, incense burners, candles and prayer flags. Bluetech rhythms swirl from the sound system. On a high shelf, a white ceramic goat stands with a toothy grin and a green and gold saddle on its back, seasonally sporting a red Santa hat with white trim.

All in all, a good place to write my New Year’s resolutions. Aside from the usual self-exhortations to work out more on the treadmill (the only technique guaranteed to get my heart rate up to the desired level), eat less crap, write more, etc. etc., my main resolution has to do with…paying more attention to what I need and want in the present.

As I type this, Emily the Cat lies in front of the computer, batting at the cursor as it moves across the screen, along with, occasionally, the (hah!) mouse pointer. She has only recently discovered the wonders of the computer, after I changed the screensaver to a marquee message in light blue English Gothic lettering, the message being simply: Here and Now

Whenever the screensaver kicks in, “Here and Now” gyrates, whirls and tilts against a black screen in a manner far more enticing than a mere mouse could ever be. Emily bats wildly at this message, much as I do several times every day.

My main resolution is paying attention to what I need and want, Here and Now. This may seem like a no brainer to many people who are well-versed in knowing what they want here, now, there and everywhere, but for me—a person who throughout my life has focused on making everything run smoothly, helping everyone find what happiness might be possible for them, earning what approval I can and never earning enough to satisfy me—it is not a no-brainer.

Much can be learned from Emily the Cat, who consistently focuses on what she needs and wants here and now, whether it be her morning treat, to be let in, to be let out, to be petted on a warm lap. At the moment she would like to catch in her claws the odd little vertical line that scoots randomly across the screen, sometimes backing up for a moment as I fix a typo, then jerking forward again in teasing fashion. Come to think of it, she wants the cursor here and now, but she cannot have it—ever (though at least she knows what she wants). So this analogy has perhaps fallen to pieces right before my horrified eyes, and yet it amuses me, right now this second, so it hasn’t been a complete loss.

In hasty conclusion, I do believe there’s simple joy in Here and Now…let’s see if I can remember that this year.

Cardinals and Snow

As I gazed at my Starbuck’s latte and pondered what I would say in the Christmas letter this year, I noticed a phrase printed on the side of the cup: “We invite you to LISTEN to your DESIRES and to RENEW your HOPE. To see the world not as it is, but as it COULD be. Go ahead. WISH. It’s what makes the holidays the HOLIDAYS.”

This contrasts with the Buddhist philosophy to neither hope nor fear, to let go of longings and be mindful of the joys available in the present moment. Can one let go properly (the lesson I keep working to learn over and over again) and yet retain hope and optimism? It seems that in order to renew hope one must begin by paying attention to the present moment and being mindful of all there is to be grateful for, here and now. And there is an optimism perhaps in Max Ehrmann’s phrase from Desiderata: “no doubt life is unfolding as it should.”

If a therapist were consulted, she might say that the first part of the Starbuck’s exhortation, the part about listening to one’s desires, is a very good plan, especially for those who have a tendency to try to make sure everybody else has the oxygen mask in place during the plane emergency and end up almost passing out from oxygen deprivation themselves.

A meditation on one’s own desires seems selfish and not in keeping with the holiday season—unless perhaps you have lost hope and you need to find a way back to the vision in the shining child’s eyes, seeing a Christmas morning where all wishes come true. For the Christmas book this year, my book club chose “A Redbird Christmas” by Fanny Flagg (also the author of “Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistlestop Café”). This is an unabashed fairy tale in which good people and a young child hope when it seems that all hope is lost, and end up with a Christmas miracle beyond their wildest imaginings involving redbirds and snow in the Deep South.

I have always associated red cardinals against a snowy background with Christmastime. I remember when I was around seven my mother wrapped a package especially for me and taped a red cardinal to it, carefully cut out from an old Christmas card. I don’t remember what was in the package, but I remember the love and thoughtfulness represented by the cardinal decoration. I also remember watching all the birds, including the cardinals, flock to feast on the sunflower seeds my Dad placed out on the upper deck bird feeder during the coldest, snowiest days of winter at our Sugar Lane house back in Southern Indiana. Those birds had reason to hope each year and also seized any opportunities in the present as well. So I will have my cake and eat it too, combining hope with mindfulness of the present. No doubt events are unfolding as they should.

So I wish that everybody who reads this has a great holiday. May all of you take a deep breath, be present, and renew your hope in the coming New Year.

I Dwell In Possibility

I stood in my backyard this morning and soaked up the Colorado sunshine, seeking a remedy for my continuing melancholy. Focusing on the present is a cure, as is Emily Dickinson’s suggestion: “Dwell in Possibility” per the black magnet with white script posted on the side of our refrigerator. Is the idea of dwelling in possibility in conflict with the idea of focusing on the present? Some say that the phrase reflects Emily’s reclusiveness and isolation; she lived her life isolated in her imagination, and had little contact with real people and situations. But I’ve always preferred to interpret it ultimately as an expression of the same kind of hopefulness and optimism expressed by Helen Keller: “When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”

The world always offers new possibilities for love, life, learning – we have to be open-minded enough to seize them.

On our walk this morning M shared the shocking news that “carpe diem” does not mean “seize the day” at all in strict Latin translation, but instead means “pluck the day,” as in plucking a flower.  Who knew? But now that I know the truth, it seems that “pluck,” as in “enjoy, make use of,” is perhaps better than “seize,” which has a rather militaristic, possessive, muscling-others-out-of-the-way ring to it.

Today I feel a weariness and lingering sense of lost purpose after a week-long business trip to the Emerald City in the Valley of Silicon looking for heart, brains, courage and a path homeward. My next magical trick is to focus on the present, and pluck the day.

Thinking

Are you thinking of telephones
And managers and where you have to be at noon
You are living a reality
I left years ago, it quite nearly killed me
In the long run, it will make you cry
Make you crazy, old before your time…

Stephen Stills

We visit the Boulder Shambhala Meditation Center to attend the “Beginner’s Class.” This center for Buddhist studies was started in the 70’s by Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, and we are fortunate to have it in our hometown.

Sitting with our bottoms firmly planted on the red meditation cushions with the yellow squares in the middle along with the other beginners, we are instructed to focus on the breath, in and out, and when a thought intervenes to lightly touch it and acknowledge it as “thinking,” then bring the focus back to our breathing again and again.

Easier said than done, as endless neurotic thoughts invade my consciousness about work people at work failures at work and elsewhere various aches pains tickles and twitches as well as what I will have for lunch and whether barbecued ribs would be a bad thing from the Buddhist point of view and also what nice posture the younger people sitting in the front rows have compared to my own crookedness oops that is a judgment and they told me I shouldn’t judge (hah!)…

It is extraordinary how difficult it is to focus only on my breathing for any length of time at all, and to lightly let go of each thought as a feather would lightly touch a bubble. We also try walking meditation at one point, where we focus on our feet rather than breath and walk slowly in a circle around our meditation cushions. I nearly lose my balance and fall during this exercise as though I have suddenly forgotten how to walk.

Still, the respite from constant thought is a worthy experience to seek, and I will continue to practice.

Chop Wood, Carry Water: A Meditation on Cleaning House

Before enlightenment; chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment; chop wood, carry water.

Zen Proverb

Today I cleaned house. It’s something I have been lucky enough not to have to do in a long time, given the division of labor we usually live under in my household. It took me three hours to scrub two bathrooms, clean a kitchen, and dust and vaccum a family room, living room, hallway and bedroom. I got a pretty good workout and my body is sore.

I took the opportunity to meditate on this simple set of activities. One thing for sure about cleaning a house—you can tell you’re making progress, and you can look around once you’re done and revel in a certain satisfaction that your mission has for the most part been accomplished. Perhaps after all there exist a few things over which you have a modicum of control and there’s something comforting in that.

I noticed where my mind went while housecleaning today—a mild resentment at having to do these chores normally done by somebody else who is too sick to do them right now, and then the gentle reminder to myself of how many times these chores have been done on my behalf over many years with perhaps not enough real appreciation on my part. I noticed: the satisfaction in scrubbing the kitchen floor and repeatedly rinsing the dirty water down the drain; the incredible mess a corner poinsetta makes as it sheds some of its lower leaves onto the living room carpet; the pervasiveness of cat hair in unexpected corners. I tried to be present all through the process, and that made it seem like a new experience somehow, rather than drudgery. Have you ever tried noticing each and every sensation as you do something very routine? It can be quite a revelation.

Be Not Afraid

Over the past many weeks I’ve had a severe case of blogger’s block which I am now working to overcome One Word at a Time. During this period I’ve been immobilized by an emotion that actually kept me from eating it was so bad (hardly anything can keep me from eating, more’s the pity). I even was losing weight for awhile. The emotion causing the loss of appetite was creating quite a hellish situation for me, with constant stomach twinges, depression, and more.

I got some time off from work over the Christmas break, and was able to gain enough perspective to realize that the emotion freezing me in my tracks was fear. Fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of the death of my loved ones, fear that people I respect will not respect me back, fear that am not worthy, fear of writing a blog that was boring or full of bullsh*t.

I’ve since been spending a lot of time analyzing this fear, how it lessened with a change of scene and routine, how focusing on the present moment can reduce fear, and how amazing it is to be trapped in your mind without the ability to step back and see how it is churning in unhealthy ways. Fear can keep you from enjoying life, from taking risks, from loving, from blogging. (My rule about my blog, for better or for worse, is that it cannot be personal day-to-day drivel and whining, but instead has to share something that might actually be useful or interesting to multiple other people. Normally this rule has not kept me silent, but clearly recently it has.)

Winston Churchill said: “When I look back on all these worries, I remember the story of the old man who said on his deathbed that he had had a lot of trouble in his life, most of which had never happened.”

So, here are my top 10 ways to stop being afraid:

10. Recognize that it is fear you’re feeling, and then try to articulate what it is that you fear.
9. Delve into the fear; take it to its ridiculous extreme. See the distortions and exaggerations in the fear.
8. Exposure yourself at every opportunity to the thing or activity you fear. Immersion in the fear will cause it eventually to lessen (especially good with things like fear of flying, fear of spiders, fear of public speaking).
7. Focus on what is happening right now this minute; be here and now. Look around - is there anything here and now that you fear?
6. Help somebody else with something. It is harder to be afraid when you are focused on helping somebody else.
5. Breathe.
4. Talk to somebody about your fear. When you start saying things out loud sometimes they are less scary.
3. If you have a cat, see if the cat will sit in your lap (they are finicky little things so good luck) and then pet the cat. It is hard to be as afraid when you are petting a cat. Full disclosure: Emily the cat is in my lap right now.
2. Get moving. Take a walk in the sunshine. Work out the fear.
1. Draw on spirit, if you have a spiritual focus. Consider the connectedness of all humans and how many of them are feeling much worse fear and anguish right now than you could possibly be feeling. Be grateful for everything you do have, as you breathe in the fear of all humans, and breathe out the hope that all may experience inner peace.

Do you have fear-bashing techniques I haven’t listed? Feel free to comment.