The dynamic, and patience required, to break through despair

"Look at the stone cutter hammering away at his rock, perhaps a hundred times without as much as a crack showing in it. Yet at the hundredth-and-first blow it will split perfectly in two, and I knew it was not the last blow that did it, but all the careful, patient effort that had gone before."

-- Jacob A. Riis


Occasionally you will run into someone who has a head of stone protecting a heart of glass - someone so afraid, angry, cold, distant, hurting, pent-up, and/or resentful of life and other people, that it seems that they might never open up to really feel and participate in life again. This is where a stone cutter's patience and skill is required over an extended period, and "the hammer" is your relentless acceptance, love, and understanding, and your awareness that all of the individual blows that seem to have no immediate visible effect are in fact like the cumulative drops of water that eventually break the dam.

What happens on the other side of the relationship can best be described by this beautiful saying that a dear friend shared with me recently:

"Out of darkness God calls forth light; out of despair, hope. From death comes resurrection. You can not have resurrections without death, hope without despair, or light without darkness. By means of defeat the kingdom of God is born in human hearts."

-- Ray Stedman

Those that hunger the most for this hope, this light, this resurrection, are always the ones that seem to be least desiring of it, interested in it, or open to it. Out of desperation and resignation, they have prepared their stone-like defenses. As the poem the other day indicated, don't be fooled, and prepare to use your hammer carefully and patiently.

Waking up anew every day

I'm currently in the midst of reading a provocative new book entitled, The Gospel Reloaded: Exploring Spirituality and Faith in the Matrix, by Chris Seay and Greg Garrett. It is an examination and a fusion of my most compelling and frequently used coaching metaphors with my Christian roots and upbringing, in a way that honors both and serves to awaken, educate, and nourish me on my "journey home."

I offer this excerpt as a small example of what I'm talking about:

"We can use the example of Neo (hero of the movie, "The Matrix") to hearten us, because the salvation work we see in him comes about in fits and starts, in a series of awakenings. Waking up takes time and effort, and, as Morpheus says, knowing the path and following the path are two separate things.

When we first see Neo open his eyes, he is a seeker who hasn't found what he's looking for. He knows there is something more, something outside himself; he knows the world as it is can't satisfy him. But he doesn't know what will. It's instructive to notice how many times in the film Neo "wakes up" - from sleep, from unconsciousness, or finally, at the end, from physical death. Waking up is a process. When we wake up, we follow the path whose outlines we know.

... And we use anything at our fingertips as a means to slumber. Alcohol numbs. Television anesthetizes. Work fills the hours of the day so that we may ignore our deeper realities. And with what do the majority of us fill our lives? Alcohol, television, work, ... and sleep.

... Like Neo, we too are waking up. We are recognizing that the corporate scurrying so many of us endure mirrors the meaningless, illusory world of hurry and bustle inside the matrix - as meaningless as the blather spouted by Neo's superior at Metacortex (the company he works for). We mistake being busy for being awake, and being still, or reflective, for being asleep.

It is important here to think about the mystics, monks, and reflective ones of the world. Or think of Neo and Morpheus, motionless in their chairs aboard the Nebuchadnezzar, their bodies in repose but their minds seeking and finding. It's an interesting - and particularly important - paradox for us to remember in these oh-so-busy days of the new millennium. Remember the matrix-training program in which Neo gets banged into by business lemmings as he tries to walk down the sidewalk. It's at that point Morpheus calls for a stop - and in that reflective moment, real learning takes place.

In Christianity, Jesus calls all of us to this space of contemplation and holy engagement. 'Here's what I want you to do,' he says. 'Find a quiet, secluded place so you won't be tempted to role-play before God. Just be there as simply and honestly as you can manage. The focus will shift from you to God, and you will begin to sense His grace.'

There is so much for us to learn. We, too, are called to wake up. We, too, must blunder our way forward from waking to waking, hoping to become spiritually stronger with each new awakening. Like the disciples, we need to keep our eyes open, to walk with Jesus just a little farther. Like the Roman church to whom Paul wrote, we need to make sure we don't sink so deeply in the everyday that we lose sight of what is truly important: the spiritual life and our walking of that path. And like Neo, we need to learn the difference between sleep and waking up to all the possibilities available on the path.

... Our own introduction to a life of faith, like that of Neo, revolves around seeing ourselves in a new way: redeemed, transformed. Once we grasp our new identity, we become ready to walk the path of faith.

... Good news is coming, even if hard times are on the way. We know from experience, and from the lives of others who have walked close to God, that faith does not guarantee an easy life.

... God has given each of us certain things to do in this world. The story of the hero's journey tells us that we will face problems along the way, that we will have to leave behind the things we know, but that what we learn will not only save us but help save others. Neo's journey likewise teaches us the importance of faithfulness, the power of love, and the possibilities before us. However difficult the road ahead may prove to be, its good to be reminded that we are loved - and that there is One who will never let us go."

On being an affirmer

An amazing thing happened the other day (what's new about that, right?). A new friend/client offered me a little book as a gift entitled Balcony People, by Joyce Landorf Heatherley. It is a book about people who "affirm" us vs. "evaluate" us - so called "balcony people" vs. "cellar people" - those who "lift us up" to our highest selves vs. "drag us down" to the basement of our worst selves. And right after he gave it to me over lunch, the woman I met with immediately afterwards, in a conversation over her personal vision, said, "You need to read the book, Balcony People. Have you ever heard of it?" Well, amazingly it was now sitting in my pile of stuff on the floor, thanks to K.H.. I had never heard of it before that day. It's from 1984, back when I couldn't care less about such things, and now it is my life, and as I got home and opened it, there was this amazing anonymous poem that I had sent out to you over 3 years ago, although not from this source, and I felt like the circle was complete. When I sent it out, I was not doing Life Plans or personal visions yet, so that makes its meaning even more relevant to me now, especially in light of yesterday's message. Enjoy this poem. It is a powerful affirmation for what it means to really be there for another human being. So, thank you, K.H., for the book which brought this sweet reminder home, and thank you, C.G., for sharing this special moment. And thank you to all of you out there who populate my balcony. You're a wild and raucous crowd, and I love you for it. And, oh yea, one last thing. As you read this poem, W.P., I promise to "never be fooled again" by your mask, and I'm happy and proud to be a loud and wildly enthusiastic cheerleader in your balcony. I chose the word "enthusiastic" carefully here, because the word enthusiasm has its ancient roots from "en-theo," or "in God."

Please Hear What I'm Not Saying

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks -
masks that I'm afraid to take off
and none of them are me.

Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
But don't be fooled, for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
that the water's calm
and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!

My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.
They're nonchalant, sophisticated facades to help me pretend,
To shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only salvation,
and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
and if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
That glance from you is the only thing that assures me
of what I am not able to assure myself for now
that I'm really worth something.

But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare.
I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh or judge me
and your laugh would kill me right now.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good
and you will see this
and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a facade of assurance without
And a trembling child within
So begins the parade of masks.
The glittering but empty parade
And my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
And nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
Do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear
what I'm not saying.
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I can not say.
I dislike hiding.
Honestly.
I dislike the superficial game I'm playing,
the superficial, phony game.
I'd rather be genuine
and me.
But I need your help, your hand to hold
Even though my masks would tell you otherwise.

It will not be easy for you.
Long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
The blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
You wonder who I am?
You shouldn't
for I am everyman
and everywoman
who wears a mask.
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.

On being the perfect you

"The perfect you isn't something you need to 'create,' because God has already created it. The perfect you is simply the love in your heart, unencumbered by your fears and your ego defenses. What there is to do about it is to listen for it - to remember it - and then to express it as thankfully as you can through your fears. That is what being fully alive is all about - dealing with all of it in choosing to be the best of it."

As people struggle to internalize the personal vision statements that we "uncover" together, I hear a few common refrains over and over again: "This is who I want to be, not who I am." "This feels so far away from my current state." "I really need to work on being this person." Well, the truth is that it is worded "Who I Am" for a reason. Not only is it stated in present tense because that's the way "vision" works, but because it's who you really are - who God created you to be. Because when doing this I only listen for that - for the love in your heart - when I take my notes. The words are your words, not mine. The fact that you might not "experience" it that way is because of your fears and ego, re-living and covering up old wounds. Others who love you either don't see them or don't feel their lingering pain the way you do. They can discard or see through them to love you, or better yet appreciate them for what they are - your perfect human imperfections. But you can't, especially when you're refusing to acknowledge them out of the very same place where they live and run your life. And neither can others who trigger you, and with whom you defend yourself with ego. These "dragons" can seem very real from inside of your pain. To shift to another place where they disappear, these vision statements can function as a temporary "borrowed state of consciousness" - a character in a play that you can try on for awhile - until you produce enough evidence to realize that the costume really does fit you, and you might as well keep it on. It's the "you" God created anyway, waiting for the "you" you created to catch up and join the play. So, since we're used to wearing costumes and armor to "protect" ourselves anyway, why not try one on so as to "be" ourselves, and see what happens.

Living with addiction

"The quality of your 'recovery' is directly proportional to the quality of your 'surrender'."

"Uncover...Discover...Discard." (Wake up to your spirit, ... live, ... die to your ego, ... repeat as necessary.)

"Being an alcoholic (or any form of addict) does not give me the excuse to act alcoholically (irresponsibly, as if 'justified' by my addiction)."

"Be attracted to people who share in your growth and progress and lose interest in those who don't." (build a supportive community)

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else (GOD, HEALTH, LOVE) is more important than our fear."

-- Quotes from various 12-Step Programs

I have been working with a significant number of people lately who are exploring their addictions - inquiring into dangerous relationships with something or other that is limiting their choices in life. I applaud them for their courage (as defined in the last quote above). Because let's face it, we are all addicts of one form or another, struggling to breathe, and to really live, in the face of our all-too-numerous addictions. Society tends to label things "addictions" when those in power (who don't want to face their own versions of them) don't like how they look on others, but that doesn't change their pervasiveness among all of us. Whether it's to alcohol, or to cigarettes, or to drugs, or to exercise, or to food, or to "looking good," or to money, or to religion, or to sex, or to violence, or to work, it's all the same, and it all leaves us feeling equally dead and empty inside, and resentful of others who don't share our pain. As civilized and intelligent human beings, we overlay our relationships with addictions onto a nice, neat, Bell Curve - ranging from the reprehensible (alcohol, drugs, sex, violence) to the fairly normal (cigarettes, food, work) to the sublime (looking good, money, religion). As if any of these "false gods" were "excusable" before God.

To those of you out there who are wrestling with your addictions out in the open, I say, keep up the good work, you are awakening, and recovery is right beyond your pain. To those of you who have just recently surrendered, I say, may God bless you and continue to give you such fine sight. At this moment you are fully alive. To those of you in denial of your addictions, deadened to yourself and the world, ... what can I say. I hope your awakening is gentle. As Morpheus says in The Matrix Reloaded, "Everything begins with choice." This applies to each precious moment of our fragile lives. We get to choose our relationship with each one. "The Boss," Bruce Springsteen, once told us that when the pain gets bad enough, and when we get desperate enough, then "it only takes a leap of faith to get things started." Geronimo!

Standing tall, as the smoke clears

"We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; in feelings, not figures on a spreadsheet. We should count time by conscious heart throbs. He or she most lives who thinks most clearly, feels with a noble heart, and acts out of their best intentions, no matter what."

-- David Bailey

I am having coffee this morning with my dear friend, D.P. He had a rough week last week, a week in which I'm sure he felt measured exclusively by fleeting time and figures on a spreadsheet, ... and found lacking. I'm also sure the weekend brought him closer to other measures by people who matter infinitely more - his family. They measure his deeds, thoughts, feelings, conscious heart throbs, and find him more than adequate, and I'm sure they let him know it in loving and deeply meaningful ways. I have said all along that 5 years from now people who had a chance to work for and with this man during the last few years will look back on that time, and the interactions they had with him, as the most truly enriching of their personal and professional lives, and they will be thankful. Well, based on the phone calls I got over the last few days, I would say that that experience has set in much more quickly than I ever could have imagined. This morning will be a celebration of life. Now that D.P. has been willing to risk professional death to stand up for what he believes in, ... and the guns blazed, ... and he's still standing tall, ... life can begin again. And he can stand tall now because he was willing to bend to help, comfort, and teach others in their times of great difficulty and struggle. Here's to you, my friend, a true hero and fellow revolutionary in my eyes, and a man who clearly knows his soul. And as Rudyard Kipling once said: "There is no price too great for the profound privilege of owning yourself."

Ah, the unknowing

"Life is a form of 'not being sure.' The moment you know how, you begin to die a little."

-- Agnes DeMille, quoted in Peter Block's Stewardship (Berrett-Koehler, 1993) p. 93
I am sending this in honor of three people out there, J.A., D.M., and a second D.M., because it resonates with three things involving them: 1) it smacks of something I wrote for one of these great men not long ago about the importance in the next stage of his life of "giving up knowing", 2) it reminds me of a conversation I had with another of them just Friday about the "coolness" of "not being sure about anything" (it's the most "alive" you can ever be) and 3) it reflects ongoing conversations with the third, who is actually reading the referenced book and is wrestling with the application of its powerful lessons in all areas of his life.

Now regarding this third man, I am also working with his wife, who has committed as part of her Life Plan to run the marathon with me next January, and on Friday she talked to me about how daunting 6 miles sounded, and that she didn't know if or how she could do it. She was very alive in that moment. Well, yesterday she drove down to Memorial Park to meet me, and together we ran 6 miles, the longest distance she had ever run in her life. We didn't plan on it, it just showed up. She had been doing a pace of about 10 1/2 - 11-minute miles when she would run her normal 3-mile runs, and she thought that was her limit for now, both in pace and in distance. Well, we did 6 miles in about 62 minutes, just a bit under her 3-mile pace. Whoa! Way to go, P.M.! You are shattering your preconceptions about yourself and what's possible. Now that you've done it, it's time to set your goal higher still. Next month at this same time - 9 miles! And that tingle you feel at the thought - that's LIFE celebrating you and the fact that you're not sure how you're going to do it. Enjoy that electrifying, magical space, and resist the familiar "need to know."

I turn to Albert Einstein for one last thought on the subject: "The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education."