Art. Adventure. Athletics

" I love how artistic, adventurous and athletic you are mom." My eight year old daughter proclaimed this summer shortly after I had stand up paddle boarded (on my knees) down a class II rapid on the Salmon River. To clarify, my legs were burning on that paddle board and I didn't feel so athletic when I fell butt first on my first attempt or barely survived the ugly yet successful second attempt. Secondly, my daughter is a wonderful mirror and can see with surprising clarity. Her statement summed up everything fun and meaningful in my life and suddenly I saw myself with as much clarity as an 8 year old.

And at forty, having just quit a tenured faculty position that defined me for ten years, I'm dead set on stripping the bullshit away and focusing on fun and meaningful. My goal is to build a different kind of life. One that allows me to put art, adventure and athletics at center and the politics and pain far behind me. That was blissfully obvious to my daughter, but to me there is forty years of other peoples blinding expectations to peel away. My daughter must has x-ray vision.

So I'm dedicating this year, which always starts and ends September, to my daughters insight and my insistence that I can have everything.

I will be an Artist.

I will adventure

I will be an Athlete.

 

"That's funny each one of those words starts with A" she followed up as she kissed me and ran away.

Sometimes the answer is as obvious as the first letter in the alphabet.

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What I'm Going to Do

Since announcing my intention to leave my ten year tenured position at Bellevue College many people have asked me what I'm going to do. I'm serious about taking a break with my kids this summer and dead serious about having more fun. And more importantly, I'm dedicated to creating an environment for myself where I can test out some theories and ideas I have about work, life, creativity, change and leadership. For now, I'm keeping those ideas close; they need to incubate while I focus on finishing strong.

BUT, I can't help thinking about the question "What are you going to DO?" The well-intentioned question, sometimes framed as an accusation (What are you going to do?), sometimes disguised as coercion (What are you going to do?) and other times just from sheer curiosity resonates with me. Of course, I have asked myself the same thing, many, many, many times.  I’m eternally committed to the whast, the ams and the dos for myself.  The answer is that I’m certain of a few things that will carry me forward. 

So right now, in this moment of time, here is how I can answer the question:  WHAT ARE you going to DO?

Play
Of course, as some friends have already guessed, I’m going to travel, write, climb and crossfit.  And I’m going to meet my kids, husband and friends where they are in play, in the pool, the playground or in a handstand. 

And I’m deadly serious about this: Work should be playful.  Without play, creativity and possibility die.  Without play, there is no discovery.  How can ideas emerge and thrive without the opportunity that play gives us? How can work be love if it isn’t playful?

Grow Younger
I will not be creaky, dusty, and/or stale in mind or body. I'm turning 40 this year and as far as I’ve been able to determine after much reflections, there are vast more benefits in reaching this number than deficits despite what our culture tells us. It is age bias that makes us “feel old” not age itself.

Here is a short list of benefits of becoming 40 over becoming 30: 

·         I care a whole lot less what people think of me, and stand comfortably in my own skin.

·         I say what is on my mind and believe solidly in the validity of my opinions.

·         I easily laugh at myself and my own jokes.

·         I’m a lot better at forgiving myself.

·         I’m empowered to believe that I can do anything that I envision, if I dedicate myself to it.

·         And damn what society says, I’m healthy, fast, strong and good looking.    

And doesn’t a healthy child feel about the same way about themselves?


Boss Myself
I’ll collaborate. Nothing is more satisfying than working towards a common goal. I’ll seek counsel and take advice from those I respect.  Multiple perspectives help guide my decision making.

But please don’t tell me what to do.  It just won’t go well.   This is in everyone's best interest. It would be a completely unsatisfying endeavor and leave us exhausted, nuts and miserable.

Connect                                                               

My best moments are when I have connected with the people.  We plunge into synchronicity and become greater than each individual.  Belonging to a group of strong, like-minded humans working, strategizing and planning towards a common goal is energizing and life-giving.

I intend to continue to seek connection and synchronicity. This includes stalking the moments both small and grand; a conversation, a fleeting moment or a passing exchange more meaningful than an unwise witness may consciously comprehend. 

Ideas are no different.  Connecting ideas means bringing them to life.  Concretely, so they are greater than their original parts and empowering them to have their own life. Guiding and witnessing worthy ideas birth is fulfilling life work.     

Laugh
Laughter and humor are survival skills. Truth: Laugh every day for mental health.  I adore finding the hidden humor in events.  I hunt giggles, guffaws, belly laughs and joyful tears.  You may think I’m crazy and irreverent, but I’m content.    

Limit Butt Time
No long hours in a chair at a computer please.  I need to move to feel alive.  Whatever is next, I will not be sitting on my ass all day doing it. 

Promote Love, Beauty and Magic
Whatever I do, it will be connected not just to the appreciation of the life-affirming but promotion of it.  The wild spreading of what brings us purpose and joy will be central to my day to day profession. 

Ban Bad Assholes
Truth: Everyone is an asshole sometime or other. 

But I like the good assholes. A good asshole pushes the status quo, cries for change, sees that the world is simply not good enough, calls it out and in doing so makes people uncomfortable. I respect them and the world needs them though some would call them assholes for it. Good assholes are courageous, dedicated, thoughtful, insightful, moral, equitable and even visionary. They are dedicated to their goals, they don't care if you think they are an asshole for it. They need that energy and courage to carry them. I am energized by them and their mission.

Bad assholes are incompetent, rude, condescending, time-wasting and/or dysfunctional and even worse. They suck the energy from you and go out of their way to ensure everything stays the same, stale, tasteless and uninspiring. They like the status quo and see no use in any improvements and often times will go to lengths to make sure everything stays the same.  They are soul-damaging if they are put in leadership positions.

With so many other, inspiring, authentic, challenging humans on the planet it makes no sense to empower bad assholes with my time. 

Push Failure
Fear and failure mark the learning edge.  And the learning edge reaps the most personal and global benefits in all we do.  If I’m not feeling the razor sharpness of my actions, then I’m not pushing myself enough.  And I’m not marking the path to my true potential. I’m going to push failure and feel the fear as a marker that I’m on the right trail.    

Explore
Explore because there is more than I can possibly know. Discover the new in travel,  life, ideas, profession, and relationships.  In the process of letting the known go, doors upon doors of possibilities open.  Like a traveler, hitching their backpack and boarding a train to a new destination, the excitement of a new voyage awaits and I’ll embrace the change and journey with the spirit of an adventurer.       

Personal Mission

Personal Mission
The person I seek to be is and always will be the sum of my intentions as they are aligned with my actions. My mission is to reflect upon my intentions, identify them explicitly then dutifully be guided by their light.

I intend:

• To walk away from every situation or challenge knowing that I put my best self, at that moment and circumstance, into it.
• To face and know fear in the moment, understand it and use it to make myself better - as a human, in performance, in relationships.
• To push my comfort zone and be reflective enough to know when I need another push (or less).
• To be self-aware and coach myself through my mental challenges and failures.
• To be my authentic self and always challenge the continual discovery of who that really is
• To be strong and offer my strength to others
• To offer encouragement and respect and the tools of my success and failures generously to others.
• To be honest and direct, while kind.
• To laugh, to give laughter to others, and always maintain my sense of humor
• To seek compassionate and empathetic understanding.
• To seek wisdom in my marriage and friendships
• To embrace and thoroughly savor everyday magic and beauty.
• To be curious.

And I intend to update this mission statement as life and time guide me. Because a mission evolves with age and environment and without flexibility missions become irrelevant.

Last updated 3/11/2014

Seasons Part 1: Avocados

I have a creative, thoughtful friend who has her own personal seasons.  She has three seasons: nectarine, dreams and crane.  In the summer nectarines are delicious.  Dreams are for winter.  Cranes emerge in spring, and she means the kinds of cranes that construct buildings, not birds.  She owns her own seasons, and because they are hers, she is not governed by them.  She shares herself with them.  When she told me this, I thought of course why do all seasons have to be Fall, Winter, Spring and Summer?  Why can't there be another point of reference?  Why can't seasons revolve around me?  It is so obviously possible.    

This begs the question; what will mine be?  Maybe this is obvious to some, but I haven't thought this way before and I must consider it.  After all, they will become a tradition and as permanent as a tattoo.  Careful consideration is necessary.   Maybe it will take a year or so to commit to a set season, maybe I will have more than three, or less, or more than 12?  

After awakening to the idea, it is surprising how to realize that I do tend to think in seasons unconsciously. 

For example,  I work in higher education and work on an academic year so I'm naturally tuned to the cycles of the quarter and the rise and fall of workload that comes with being a teacher, especially on a quarter system.  It makes sense to me and I think it likely does in most professions.  My energy falls and rises with the presence of students and other teachers.  I also tend to intuit the energy of the campus space, I absorb the tension in faculty or its release.  I feed on the work habits of those around me.

Pealing through this energy of my profession and folding in on my own forces is tricky.  In other words, rather than reacting to the energy around me, what is my energy bringing to this? That is my season at play, not some other system pushing on me.  Unpealing this is key.

Summer is a good time to start.  For me, it is of professional sleep, work is slow and I've come to terms that I may consider myself on-call, passive, not active or proactive, just reactive in my profession.  Summer is a time for reflection, learning and planning.  This summer,  I've painted more, since there is more time for it.  I work from home more.  I support my family more proactively.   There is more time for reflection and even criticism of my life.  I've been weighted down by thoughts of quitting my job, of finding something new.  I'm very aware of a new restlessness rooted in my mid-life transition unexpressed.    Some of these themes will follow me across the years but I'm searching for a universal truth that touches me. 

I caught myself thinking recently that I really love that the avocados are back in season.  They are never in season in Seattle, but they make their way to Seattle in a delicious state beginning sometime in the Summer and maybe Spring.  In the Fall they turn tasteless, mushy messes and I refuse to eat them anymore as they barely mimic their potential.  Summer time, they are creamy, full, delights, smooth and delicious.  Wonderful with the warm, just picked tomatoes from the garden and a little basil and a pinch of salt.  No dressing needed.

Avocados have multiple meanings for me.  My fondest memories of living in Managua, Nicaragua are with my lovely friend Jenny Maudsley.  We often sat on the shared patio between our two studios in the shade of a mango tree away from the summer heat, drinking Flor de Cana mixed with Squirt. We talked about everything as we shook off the 60 hour work week with that drink and the burgeoning fondness of our friendship.

One day, as we sat under the stars the topic turned to avocados.  We adore them.  And central America is full of them, so plentiful they reach down from urban trees tempting you to pick and eat them on the spot.  Oh, the creamy fullness of dipping into a fresh avocado peeled with your fingers like a banana and eaten like an apple.  An adventurous delight.

Just like a good snog, as Jenny my English friend, would quip  - orgasmic.  And just like any good friendship, we developed a lexicon around a good avocado and a good hook up with that just perfect boy; the peace corp worker, the backpacker from new Zealand, the Europeans traveler.  Any boy that made our knees weak at the site and a belly lurch at the first kiss.  We were as picky about these boys as we were about avocados.  They had to be the perfect combination of sensation, texture, touch and zesty humor.  These were our avocados.  We did not compromise on them, they had to be luscious or not partaken.   The search for a perfect avocado was part delightful anticipation and part quest. 

My time in  Central America was a time of rawness.  Sweet, full, exposed, truthful, sometimes ugly and sometimes bountiful.  I struggled with grief, struggled with my identity and future.  I wandered across that country enjoying its energy and authenticity.  A bit aimless, but in my aimlessness I settled in myself for a time.    And avocados filled that  time as a symbol of the pleasure, fullness and surprise that magical part of the world gave me, all sensual, spiritual, and nourishing. 

So this season is avocado season, it is obvious now.  It is a time to be raw, to go inward, to find new expression and to seek raw sensation.  To muddle in career work and work on life meaning and to explore those energies that I don't get to in a dull winters and the throws of academic stress. .  And to enjoy a good full wonderful avocado until the season ends.  And I don't know yet when it ends yet.  That will be the joy of exploring my next season. 

And to my new friend, I thank that she shared her seasons with me.  I love this idea and find thoughtful reflection in what this may mean to me.  I love nectarines as well, though not as much as she does.  But during her season almost every morning I make my scrambled eggs with delicious nectarines and think about her and the gift of my own seasons.  Here is her recipe and during avocado season, I will stir up some of my own avocados: 

Scrambled Eggs with Nectarines

Ingredients.
2 tablespoon chopped onion
1 teaspoon ghee
1 clove of garlic
1 nectarine
1/2 chorizo sausage
2 eggs
1 garden fresh tomato chopped
2 tblsp fresh basil

To do:
Sautee the onion, garlic, nectarine and chorizo in the ghee for two minutes over medium heat.
Crack 2 eggs in pan and scramble mixing all ingredients until eggs are cooked to your preference.
Turn off heat and stir in basil and tomato.

Eat with a summer melon on the side like watermelon or cantaloupe.  Top with an avocado. 

Addictive love.  Enjoy.       

a brand of empowerment

What does it mean to be empowered?

I reflected on this after I dropped out of the Landmark Forum.  It attempted to patent my empowerment. I resent any ownership of me.  I accept full responsibility for myself.  So I left.  And I committed to branding my own empowerment. 

What is empowerment?  And why will some  give up their freedom to someone else to achieve it?  Isn't that paradoxical?  Can one be empowered when they give themselves to others?  I find myself thinking of love as I write this question.  But what I witnessed was the giving over of power to overcome fear, not for love.  In this state, could this really be empowerment?  

I don't think so.  It is choosing one authority (fear) for another (the landmark forum). 
 
I believe we are empowered.  We live in an empowered state.  It doesn't come to us.  It reveals itself as a perfect already achieved state.  Give up the belief that empowerment lives with someone else. Give up the restrictions your mind.  Give up what others think of you.  Give up the padding, the protection and the blinders that prevent you from seeing yourself and your potential.  It is clear we are pure empowered potential and energy.  We are limitless.     

When we deliberately place ourselves in the direction of our goals a synchronicity will unfold. Goals are achievable and achieved, allies emerge, love expands, tribes find you, networks multiply.  Being deliberate is engagement and commitment to personal empowerment.  Being deliberate is difficult and requires much: Vision. Consistency. Belief. Courage. Faith.  Commitment.  And there is much that holds us back: The Status Quo. Culture. Community. Friendships. Love, yes, love.  Family.  Demands. Our Minds. 

And don't forget non-conformity.  It is required for true empowerment in almost any arena;  health, fitness, success, finance, family, love.

 And I think that is the rub.  The same forces that empower us keep us back. 

Extremes are just the opposite bends of a outfacing circle, connected but unaware of each other. Creating space for both, holding and observing them simultaneously.  This is empowerment.  It is a choice to love it all.  And in loving it all, in those moments, days and even weeks, I feel the most freedom, empowerment and courage to be deliberate.      

An Authentic Revelation

I am a Landmark Forum drop out and I’m proud. 

 At first, I wasn’t proud.  I was confused and sick to my stomach.  I don’t like to quit but I’m not a follower either.  When I balanced the two, it turns out I dislike being treated like cattle more than feeling like a quitter.  So I quit. 

 But my out, my trapdoor, the easy excuse, was that I didn’t exactly know why I was there; maybe to motivate me at work, maybe to help me with my goals and to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, maybe to find balance in a mid-life crisis.  I definitely didn’t want to bring my personal relationships into the Forum.  From the beginning, I didn’t trust Landmark.  I had heard stories about cults, Jedi mind tricks and high pressure sales.  I was skeptical and self-protective. 

 I went because I indefinably knew that I needed a push.  I didn’t really know in what direction or where, but something had to give.  I was not satisfied and I was pulling Blugh down with me.  

 And I got a push.  A push so hard that I had to jump before I went flying off a cliff.  But I did get the push I needed. 

The Landmark Forum set me in a new direction in my relationships with Blugh and my friends.  It lifted a veil, a thin film, that had blurred the people around me and suddenly I saw them in high definition, real, near, sharp, and focused.  I could almost physically grasp and suddenly hear the inner-dialogue the people were having with themselves, about themselves and in relation to me.    

What did this was a simple realization at the Forum.   

 Since even before my father’s death, I have created an elaborate story about impermanence, change and death. Everything changes, people are unreliable, come and go and will eventually disappear.  

 As a result, I've put barriers up to prevent me from truly connecting with people or being authentic.  I’ve done this in a way that is subtle, manipulative and settles the fault squarely on the shoulders of the people around me.

 I am a manipulator. I am addicted it. It makes me feel safe, independent and free.  It has also isolated me. 

 I have abused and manipulated my husband.  I created a fairy tale about us.  In this story I have set up excuse time bombs so that I would have a list of abuses (all his fault) when we ended. 

 I'm a shithead.  I'm a manipulator.  I'm addicted to this behavior. And when I told him this, he kind-of already knew it.

I love him.  I clearly see that he is the love of my life.  I’m completely committed to him.  We are strong partners and have a brilliant life together.  But this is a terrifying realization in an impermanent world. When will it end?  How can I protect myself from that pain?  In the past, I have tried not to feel it, denied it, and even strategized an end to it. 

 I directed our story to ensure my control, unhappiness and my righteousness.  And justified it because it will all end anyway. 

These thoughts and actions are inauthentic.  And I don’t want to be. It will not lead me to happiness.   
 The Landmark reminded me that I want love without preconditions and self-righteous stories.  I want to live with loved ones free of my fear.  I want liberty from the isolation fear has created.  And I’m committed to intentionally creating connection and authentic relationships.

Finally, the Landmark Form reminded me to take full responsibility for the state of my life and relationships.  I have created them and am responsible for them.  As such, I am capable and will create my way into fuller, more meaningful and strengthened relationships. 

 These were the lessons I took away from the Landmark Forum: 

·         Many of my stories about my relationships are false.

·         If I believe and act on them I am inauthentic and isolating myself

·         I am responsible for the state of my life and relationships. 

 They are important lessons that unlock destiny and promise a more fulfilling life.   Thank you Landmark Forum. 

 But I’m begrudgingly grateful. 

 I left the Landmark Forum for two reasons.  First, so I could keep my learnings unspoiled from the cult, the mind tricks, manipulation and the psychological marketing that could so easily dirty them.  And yes, the rumors of these features were true.  Second, I accept the Landmark dare.  Repeatedly, in the Forum we were told that we could not achieve our own empowerment and transformation without the Landmark Forum.  That is nonsense.  Full responsibility means full empowerment.  I’m the only one that can provide that gift, not the Landmark Forum, not my husband, my kids or any other loved one.  Full access to my empowerment is in my own hands.   I accept the responsibility.   

 

Where the dead live

Why do we bury our dead? We insist on placing them in space. We fix them permanently when they are so obviously transient. 
 
I wondered this as I peered at rows and rows of perfectly straight bleached headstones; bone clean, pristine bystanders overlooking the San Diego cliffs.  The sun rinsed them as the sea spray sanded them clean. Perpetually baptized this way, these mini-lithic effigies peer down at the harbor and downtown's metallic spray of skyscrapers. From Point Loma, the gravestones frame downtown San Diego like patient mystics bobbing their knowing heads. This too shall pass. Dust to dust.  A reminder that everything ends.   
 
As we drove up the Point towards my father's grave my three-year-old told stories. There are monsters here. The skeletons will get us. The only protection from his imagination was the blue sky, the warmth of the sun, the vibrant green crab grass, and the friendly rolling hills.
 
I told my kids we were going to see my father and their grandfather. Someone who loved them both very much. But he insists this is a scary place.
 
A cemetery is a time machine.  A place where we can walk across death and reach out to the ones we loved and still love. They are places of love. They cradle our faith in life. Hug our memories tightly. They make lost time real and emotion tangible. We honor ourselves, our ancestors, our mortality when we visit them. They ground us.
 
I tell my children that their grandfather is everywhere, in our hearts, in our blood, in our trees and in the air. He is everywhere like all of us will be when we die.  We are all connected. 
 
Yet as we drove to his grave, I knew I was going to him. It is his place. This cemetery is my father's home. It is where he is.
 
I was taut as we drove through his lot’s gates.  I did not know where he was exactly.  I knew we were close.  I was feeling my way back to him, remembering coordinates from a pilgrimage made thirteen year ago.
 
When we parked, I pulled Dana along with me to the end of the last row of headstones. My father's ashes are in a wall, a plaque with his name, birth and death year. The wall reaches from one end of the cemetery to the other. The plaques extend up ten high and deeper than I can remember.  I wondered how I could remember where he was in the undeviating grid. But the instant I had the thought, I spotted him.  In complete focus. All other plaques blurred and dispersed.
 
He is squatting height on the wall and in an indiscernible spot.  His location is my beacon.  His plaque’s power is unique to me.
 
I placed my hand on him and pull my daughter closer to me. Years of tears were jerked from me. This was the first time they met.  Dana my father meets Dana my daughter. 
 
When Daire arrives, I pull both kids tight to me and present my family.  I want him to be proud. 
 
After my family retreats to the car, a disarray of light, color, images, sound, animation, smells cascade around me.  My father's face, his words, his support, images of dying, my childhood, his hug, his smell, his laughter .  Emotions that only rise in my father’s presence, feeling that are only feelings for my father. They bath me. I’m cleansed. I remember him and in doing so remember who I am.
 
The plaque was stone and cold under my hands. I kiss his name and feel his closeness. I inventory 15 years. "Am I doing the right thing?”  I ask him. “Am I doing ok?"  I think so but I don't really know.
 
But I have peace. I have peace with death. As I live my life fully, I have peace as I follow his footsteps.
 
And I’m grateful for the power of his place.

 

Turning to Each Other

Yesterday, I let someone get to me and I was angry. Really angry. I felt my heart constrict, my muscles tightening, endorphins kicked in and I was ready to fight. As I tried to control the impulse, I lost focus. Frustrated, I forgot my point which compounded my angst.  I precariously tread a thin line between passion and anger. It is one of life’s gifts, a consistent reminder of my challenges.    

 Afterwards, I ranted, fumed and gestured. It put me off balance for the day. I forgot myself. It took me twenty-four hours to regain equilibrium.

 In hindsight I know that the person's behavior was not a personal attack but a private story acted upon. My anger stemmed from my own acquired stories and meaning making. Our stories clashed in a meeting room. Extract those stories and the event was only words that missed each other across a table. A damaged but shared act of unheard phrases and broken dialogue.  Something fixable.

When we throw the private stories into the scene our worlds explode into unsolvable riddles.  Menacing words are dropped like missiles at war; disrespect, uncaring, rude, prejudiced, incompetent, horrible, unjust, unfair, unsupported all punctuated by expletives.       

These personal stories, the private reality we build in which good are good, bad are bad, we are victims, they are aggressors, all the reasons we or they can’t change, all the explanations why we can’t have our dreams.  All the ways we draw lines around ourselves, our society, our workplace, our family.  These stories are the destructive force.  None of it is true. 

The truth resides when we turn to each other and engage.  When we deeply listen, we dialogue and freely enter into a conversation that explores the biggest questions, they whys, the things that matter, the passions, the humanness of existence.  We leave the stories behind, suspend limiting assumptions and open ourselves.  These connections trigger meaning, creativity, innovation, deep paradigm shifts and ever deeper appreciation of being.    

This is the life force.

I have a lot to learn about it. 

      

Flipping Opposites

Is there really such a thing as opposite?  Rather what appears as two extremes only comes back to itself, full circle. Opposites entirely observed are the same and contrary simultaneously. 


Black is empty of light expressed as a color.  White is light’s full spectrum encompassed in one.  They are both expressions of light neatly facing each other.  They dialogue, expose their weakness and reveal a different option.  Personified, they giggle while riddles expose their inconsistencies.   Neither right or wrong.  The same but different.  In reality, they tell us they are more alike than dissimilar. 


It struck me recently when a colleague said “this is a good example of her strengths being her weakness.”  And it was true.  In context, her strength is a weakness.  What a strange truth.  Context can flip our abilities, suddenly the reason we succeed is the reason we fail. 

What are my strengths?  What happens when I flip them? 

Most would say that I am fiercely independent. 

 I like being alone and enjoy time to reflect.  I observe, read, study, reflect, discuss but come to conclusions independently.  What emerges is original thought, uninfluenced by groupthink.   What emerges is also incomplete. 

I am a self-starter.  I can point myself to the next priority and begin without external direction.  I can map my goals and forge their pathway.  I enjoy this process’ inherent ambiguity.  I don’t like being told what to do. 

I love to travel alone.  The inexplicable freedom of feet traversing on new ground and eyes on novel sights is exhilarating.  My perspective crystalizes and the world’s expansiveness unfolds around me.  It is inspiring and isolating. 

I love to read, paint and write.  The moments when I live for being, thinking, mindfulness, and creativity are grounding.  They place me in the center of myself, a place where love clarifies everything.  But these are solitary endeavors.

What imbalance? 

The opposite of independence is community, family, friends, connections, relationships, shared visions and collective wisdom.  There is equal power in it. I respect them. I believe in them. But it isn’t my first calling.  I’m drawn into myself first.  Maybe this is selfish, but I seek to bring myself fully to my endeavors before searching out others. 

But community is a blessed testing ground for reflection, ideas, arts, networks, adventure, relationships and action.  My passions cannot rest solely in my domain; eventually they are birthed into the world and shape our community.  My fierce independence bumps into society whether I like it or not.  Independence and community fluidly circle back.  If I don’t embrace this, I will miss the point of my own gifts.   

I’m resolved to flip my strengths and explore their weakness.  This is a challenge that requires my full attention and as I’m writing I feel fear.  Can I really do this? 

I’m resolved to ask for help.  I promise to call my friends when I am lonely.  I’ll explore multiple voices and conflicting ideas.  I will pursue the tension between my goals and others. I’ll seek shared adventures where compromise creates the journey. I’ll seek complexity of networks.  I’ll build intentional community.

Ultimately, I’ll pursue the balanced tension in opposites because I suspect the rewards will be exponential.    

     

Dharma: The pursuit of life purpose

I love teaching and learning but at times it has treated me like an unfaithful lover, broken my heart, kicked me around and forced me to choose heartache or disengagement.   Lately, I have struggled with two choices:  

1.      leave education entirely 

2.      co-create a culture that would support the passion every teacher has for their profession. 

I surprised myself when I chose number 2. Actually, I did not mean to do that. Number 2 chose me. 

Thursday, April 19^th 2012. I accomplished my biggest breakthrough professionally.   I presented the culmination of my professional and significant learnings  which exposed my raw heart with all its passions and heartbreak.   For me, it was momentous. 

This presentation represented a moment in my life when everything came together; the heartache and pain, the victory, the hopes.  I suddenly understood why I had bared the hardship and exhilaration at work. Why I read dearly loved books and studied concepts of transformation, social change, leadership, sustainable business, learning, education. 

My passions converged into what I term a pedagogy for a sustainable future based on hope, transformation, inclusion, action, empathy, connections, shared authority, lifelong learning and technology.  The pathway to which necessitates establishing trust, integrity, inclusiveness, relationships and renewal.  This requires a renewed appreciation for our profession.  Teaching and learning is a decidedly human endeavor, we do it because we love our disciplines, students and process.  We are motivated by love. 

As I spoke, my audience eyes welled with tears.  These were colleagues, faculty, deans, presidents, students.  Those shiny eyes made it hard to not break down.  I touched hearts and bared a glimmer of communal truth.  It was powerful. 

Dharma is the pursuit of life purpose.   Teaching and learning is my purpose.  For over ten years, I’ve been dedicated to my professional love.  That presentation represented a new level of my dedication and a renewed understanding of educational institutions and systems.  It reignited my sense of my purpose.   It realigned me with dharma. 

Why the presentation?  Potentially, a new job.  It is an entrepreneurial endeavor and an opportunity to reignite enthusiasm for teaching and learning on campus.  It is a chance to help faculty find, keep and fuel their passion.  I want it.  I realize now, that I’ve been prepped and pointed to it for most of my adult life.

But now I wait.   

Regardless of whether I get it or not, I accomplished a lot.  I touched people.  I challenged colleagues to think differently.  I placed a framework down that offers faculty a rejuvenated workplace and students a life as informed, engaged, empowered and courageous citizens. 

Afterwards, colleagues approached me and confessed that they want my vision and hope it can happen.  I want to prove that it can.  It is worthwhile challenge and exciting in its dynamic possibilities.

And more importantly, even while facing disillusionment and systemic apathy, I followed my dharma.     

Shed Your Skin

Dolphins shed their skin every two hours.  They do this to remain fast and uncatchable. Newer skin is silky, smooth, it feels firm but gel-like and glides their aqua-dynamic body through the water efficiently like a torpedo.  I know this because I touched a dolphin in Puerto Vallarta and the trivia was shared with us by our guide on the encounter.  Of course, the thrill came mostly from the magic it spun on my daughter who says that it and the monkeys who pranced on her head and jumped into her arms were highlights of our trip.

Like a dolphin, I shed my skin in Puerto Vallarta.  Like my kids, it is a magical experience.  It is renewal.  Now that I’m home, I’m strategizing how to achieve rejuvenation with dolphin-like frequency.  Every day I wake up, I have an opportunity to renew myself.  I know this, but don’t practice it.  However, I achieve reflective and permanent transformation when I travel.  

Travel leaves all the personal and emotional debris floating at home.  Without the garbage and confronted by a new context, I can see clearly; my values, my goals, my kids and family come into sharp focus.   I’m not complaining.  I love life in Seattle.  But work, kids, routines, the constant planning and projecting and the grey Seattle winter can combine to push me down like a weight if I’m not careful to seek balance.  I need space to forget and reflect, reconnect, remember where I came from and how I got here.  I need to blow it off it me spiritually, emotionally, mentally, physically and allow myself room to reimagine me. 

And I love Mexico.  It feels like a written prayer when I see the words.  I love Mexico beyond the beach, margaritas, the pools, hammocks and tourist traps but I confess I even love them.  I love the vendors on the beaches who fuel my idleness by bringing the shops to me.  I love the grinning men, shouting Spanish insults and puffing up their bellies at each other as the wrinkles spread around their eyes and over their ruby cheeks.  I love the way the women move, quick, surefooted and easily distracted by a belly laugh. I love the people’s curiosity and kindness as they gaze at my blond daughter in wonder as she rattles off a sentence in Spanish.  I love the salsa, spicy and fresh, guacamole from the sweetest avocados and grilled camarones and mahi-mahi, fresh and local.  I love the way the people break into song on a whim and merengue move only needs a heartbeat and a smile to commence.  

This isn’t Seattle’s spirit.  It is a refreshing, spontaneous, joyful and caring reminder.  It is a blessed counterweight. 

This vacation was pure all-inclusive resort heaven.  It was full of sweet, idle moments and indulgence.  We succumbed to nothing but succumbing.  

It was endless summer heat and the breezes picking up salty Pacific scents and throwing them across the sand.  It was small hands building, burying, digging, splashing,  eating, molding, reimagining, creating new worlds and entering new ones.    It was macaws,  egrets, pelicans, dolphins, sea lions, fish, monkeys, crabs, clams, donkeys, tarantulas,  beetles, ducks, and tigers (yes, tigers).  The butterflies playfully flashed a treasure of iridescence; emerald, crimson, saffron, aquamarine, amber.  The scattering of coconut, banana, and papaya trees were street side offerings for a self-picked breakfast.  Live mariachi reconnected me with fond memories.  My kids tested their Spanish and won friends.     

I have returned more complete than when I left.  I love my family more lightly.  I offer inspired work. Blugh and I are strengthened.  My children have new wonders and memories unseen in Seattle. 

Gratitude.  Love.  Life.  Amazement.    Everyone must shed their skin. 

sticky commitment

Sticky commitment is constant inquiry.

I’m not referring to blind commitment when one simply follows for followings sake. That is rooted in fear. Its vision is narrow, the scope is tiny and the world is scary. The realm of blind commitment, aside from the current path, has few options and all of those will bring ruin. Blind commitment may bring demise anyway. You wouldn’t jump off a bridge if your friends did, would you? Maybe so if you were blind, scared and option-less.

Personally, I cannot subscribe to blind commitment in any form. My world is limitless and I prefer it that way.

Sticky commitment reveres options, the unlimited, the mystery, everything known, and unknowable. It recognizes that there is always opportunity. It is constant inquiry. It is constant wondering. It is always dreaming. It recognizes that no choice is absolute, the world unfolds a buffet of possibility, and an individual has the power to command destiny.

And what does that have to do with commitment? In such an expansive world, how can anyone just choose one?

In most things, we don’t have to. I have many passions and support as many as I can; kids, family, husband, travel, climbing, painting, writing, sustainability, creativity, teaching, education, salsa dancing, fitness, cooking, wining and dining. Of course, there is an ebb and flow, like the ocean waves crashing one after the other as one takes priority and then another. They compete and I question, but ultimately we balance. My passions serve my varied facets. Life is abundant. And I’m committed.

Other times it is necessary to choose one. My husband, for example, is a singular choice. Of course our vows, made almost ten years ago, commit and bind us. Our children form a bond stronger than any adhesive. But he is not off the hook and I will not play blind. There is constant inquiry in our relationship. Could we be better? How? What is our goal? Is it worth it? Would it work better this way? Can we change and how? I examine us, dissect us, probe our construction, diagnose the failures, reengineer and reassemble the parts. If we move this part would we work better? What if?

Don’t think it isn’t painful. Don’t think I never yell. Don’t think I’m confident that we can’t ever break down. Remember there is mystery, chaos, the impenetrable.

That is the nature of sticky commitment. We place a microscope on ourselves and bravely scrutinize. We do not know the answers before we ask the questions. Sometimes it leads to loss, pain, fear, regrowth and eventually a new found gift or delight. But the resilient passions and the persevering loved ones are powerful. These deserve our sticky commitment.

Just place your intention there and follow it. All else will follow.

Goals, aspirations, desires, hopes, dreams will come to nothing without the support of one's intention. Intention is the quality of having a purpose in mind. It is where the inner world of thought, ethics, principles, emotions, values and the outer world of action, motion, contact and communication meet. In the intentional person, these two worlds are in alignment and being guided with a just hand that monitors the tension between the two. It is a delicate act that requires vigilance, focus, thought, reflection. It is no easy task to follow ones intention, but it is entirely rewarding. Synergy and synchronicity are the rewards, a meaningful and spiritual life the benefits.
The opposite of intention is unconscious which is operating from a state of imbalance. Either one's inner life is steering the decision making process or the outer world is pushing one around from moment to moment. The individual is a victim in either case and sadly can only glimpse the potential in life, but hardly attain it. There are many people in this world whose circumstances are so extreme it is almost an impossibility to be intentional. I intentionally use the word almost as nothing is impossible under the power of our intention.
A vast majority of the people living in the Western world are living in a moment of unprecedented luxury and health. It is a ripe time in which we could collectively utilize our intention to create a balanced life. We have created a world with unlimited potential. And yet, we betray ourselves. We choose lives and lifestyles that do not align with our values and principles. We find ourselves forced to make decisions that make us uncomfortable in the workplace, supermarket, shops, our homes. People crave meaning and yet we are handicapped in providing it for each other.
We create problems because we lack intention. For example, we have created diabetes epidemic in the process of making food more accessible and created climate change in our pursuit of economic growth. No one intended to make these problems, but the pursuit of outer luxury made us blind to the messages and wisdom of the inner life. We have built a culture that collectively operates without balance and denies us purpose.
A meaningful and purposeful life is our birthright.
What kind of world would we live in if we all followed our intention? If we all actively defined and relentlessly pursued what gives us purpose? I'm amazed at the potential in the answer. We would be transformed.