Coffee Community

I dwell in a community of repeated though irregular encounters around work and coffee. Many I pass with a silent nod of recognition and a smile of greeting. Others involve conversation about our various and diverse tasks. Always acceptance. Rarely commitment.
I'm learning in this always emerging never defined dynamic. Watching how people approach this unstructured structure. Some with scheduled routine or a favorite seat. Some with momentary intensity and then they're gone. I revel in the expansive expressions of work and relationship, focus and freedom, purpose and pause. I delight as much in the fellow entrepreneur trying to get some work done as the busy friends catching their breath as they catch up with each other. The writers, the mothers, the homeless, the business suits, the backpacks... it's all good.
I've got to go. I hear my name. Someone has anticipated my refill.

Showing Up Me

I control how I show up in the world.
I heard this turn of words for the first time a couple of weeks ago and find it helpful. While there is much in my context that is out of my control, the manner in which I am personally present always is.
It causes me to reflect on my internal sense of poise, peace and confidence. How much feels authentic and how much feels forced on me by pressures I feel from my context. Not as many good models or standards out there as I would have preferred. Hence the importance of living into my own standards and never being anything less than fully me. It's the least I can do for myself and for those I care about.

Blah, Blah, Blah

Dry, brittle iterations of last year's formula for health, wealth and happiness. Blah, blah, blah. So many talkers. So many content with words.
When did words shift from being descriptors of reality to substitutes for reality? When did visions go from being vivid images that inspired energetic co-creation of the future to dogmatic recitations of a prescripted story line?
Words have power when they call into being that which was previously but an idea. "Let there be light." A blessing. A promise.
Words that float and hover with no responsible grounding in the complex intricacies of life are deceptive and dangerous and result in outcomes like violent strategies for achieving peace and justice in the world; marriage vows binding people to abusive and/or vacuous relationships; leadership practices that reduce people to their skills, talents, and gifts (i.e. usefulness) in order to build a company or a church or any of a number of noble causes.
Blah, blah, blah. Ya think? Tell me something I don't already know. Whatever. The signs of verbal fatigue are everywhere. And then there are those words humanity has never quite been able to shake: "Do unto others..."

The Edge

The edge.
Full of potential
To both
Discover new worlds or
Plummet into darkness.

The edge.
Dangerous living quarters
For both
The timid and the brave.

The edge.
Strangely available
Seldom chosen
Cusp of unidentified opportunities.

The edge.
Naive and cunning
Every consequence
Is your own child.

The edge.
We can only point
Never blame
The fact of
The edge.

Excuse or Shame

Looking for new ways to work on my weaknesses besides beating myself up for having them in the first place.
The extremes of shaming myself (where there is no room for being less than perfect) and excusing myself (where there is room for everything except demanding a higher standard from myself), aren't serving me well. I need something new. Something more like a compassionate self-challenge. Understanding of both the complexities of my foibles and the inestimable value of growing through them.
I know, somewhere way down deep that I cannot yet access, that someone healthier, stronger, more vibrant, poised and decisive is emerging. Part of me can't wait to meet him and has been very busy removing all obstacles to his arrival. Part of me is nervous, maybe threatened, by these changes, and has been masterfully sabotaging the preparation efforts. If I could only get these two guys to realize they're on the same team.

Winning at Monopoly

You're in a new stage of family life when you stop helping your kids during a Monopoly game, and, in fact, thoroughly and guiltlessly enjoy beating them. I must have landed on one kid's (the name will be withheld to protect the innocent) property on three separate occasions without her noticing (all my kids are hers). I thought of mentioning it for maybe a fraction of a second and then continued on. She'll recover from what was initially perceived as unforgivable betrayal. Or when I traded away all of my property to get the one title that gave me a single monopoly. There I sat with my three yellows and steadily built house after house after house. Impervious to the cries of not playing fair, I collected the increasing rents and gave myself an enthusiastic high-five. (No one else was speaking to me at that point.) All those years of building and guarding their self-esteem were worth it. We can now battle like true adversaries when playing games and no one goes home crying.

Thanksgiving as Good Practice

Gratitude is a choice. It is also always an available choice. No matter what difficulties buffet our lives, we have the option to identify something (however miniscule) and say thanks. Such a practice actually frees us to concentrate more fully on addressing our difficulties. Set into a context of gratitude, they lose their power to overwhelm or ruin or obsess us. Less afraid we are better poised to deal.
I'm discovering there seems to be a correlation between our practice of gratitude and our capacity to recognize that for which we might be grateful. The more we express our thanks, the more things we can see for which to be thankful. It's as if whatever the gravity of what currently requires our focus, we are always developing a peripheral vision of gratitude that is increasingly aware of far more than we can actually attend to. We acquire a competence to see that which will color and inform our focus in helpful, healthful ways.

Return on Investment

I'm learning to think differently about return on investment.
The difference relates to the use of time. What return on investment do I get on my time?
Those who know me best know my short attention span for many tasks, the lack of structure in my working world, and the seemingly random bursts of inspiration and productivity that characterizes my output.
It obviously wouldn't work for me to evaluate all time the same. Two hours of "unproductive" space may result in thirty minutes of incredible insights and writing productivity. Whereas, if I tried to sit down and be creative at a scheduled time, it might take me five or six hours to produce an equivalent outcome.
Hence the usefulness of thinking in terms of return on investment. My focus shifts away from measuring levels of effort or busyness to selecting best paths for achieving desired outcomes; from what I'm putting into my efforts to what I'm getting out of my efforts.
A big difference.

Greeting the Morning

A bracing chill floats in the breeze at my back, while the morning sun strives to envelope me in warmth. I greet the morning in all its mystery and potential, and step forward to own the day. An adventure... definitely. A comedy of errors... often. Vintage me... always.
I've already tried not being me. It doesn't work very well. Go figure.
I've tried both qualifying who I am and faking authenticity. To no avail.
I've hidden in the background, pushed my way to the front, painted a smile on, danced till they cheered. You wouldn't believe the crap I've put up with. All in the name of...
Oh geez, I forgot.
Damn.
And then one brisk morning, too exhausted by my own circumlocutions to be other than me, I did a double take in the rear view mirror and decided that this might be someone worth getting to know. A thousand generations of witnesses rose to their feet and applauded and stomped and roared in enthusiastic tribute.
I love the morning.

Variations on a Theme

Astounded at the beauty of each individual person. Infinite variations on a rich and deeply human theme. Epic sagas enacted in daily portions. The uncelebrated heroism of rolling out of bed yet another morning and contributing the treasure trove of our own person into the crazy-making absurdities swirling and crashing all around us.
And then comes the unexpected eye contact in a jostling crowd. The momentary acknowledgement of a shared story... the knowing smile affirming underlying understandings... an uplifting connection that putting into words would only diminish.
There is no overestimating the value of recognizing who you are with.

Fully Present

Getting concrete and specific requires commitment because outcomes can be measured. Much simpler to leave things vague and general. No risk of failure.
Simpler, maybe, but what about getting anywhere? Making progress? Making a difference? What's the deal with avoiding achievement and accountability? As demotivating as I find accountability to others, I accept full accountability to myself and the responsible stewardship of my life. I am stepping up to the plate. I am putting my cards on the table. I rise to meet this next moment. Even as I refuse to bow to all other people, I honor myself and the mandate that inspires me. I know what to do. It's time to do it. It's time to do it all of the time instead of some of the time. Something has changed inside. I am fully present.

Too Great a Price

I danced a dance
Scripted by others.
I played the game
Laid out for me.
I chose the road
Of least resistance,
Covered my eyes
For the sake of me.

Who betrayed whom may never be clear.
The stories told are fictions from fear.
My dance is now over, and I am to blame;
Murdered for living, exposing our shame.

Cry if you have to.
Scream if you will.
Declare the ship floating
The cruise on due course.
But I from the bottom
Of this faceless ocean
Woke to the dance
And swam for my life.

Myths and illusions cloud with such clarity,
Certain of all we have no way to know.
But when the soul cries for more than right polity,
A scandalous evil threatens the show.

Jump through the hoop.
Tickle my fancy.
Your self-esteem
Is now in my hands.
But wait just a minute,
The words are all empty.
It’s a beautiful dream
Built on nothing but sand.

These graying temples are weary of dancing.
Sustaining illusions exacts too great a price.
Time to make choices, live freely, act boldly;
Such going named leaving by paralyzed mice.

There’s nothing to say when there’s so much to be.
My confession of death has created new life.
Painful the memory of shattered illusions,
Hope-filled the prospect of authentic lived life.

Both And

Simple and complex. Easy and difficult. A word and a memory. A wound and a scar. Surface and depth. Clean and messy. Smooth and rough. Level and steep. A dream and a nightmare. Friend and foe. Powerful and weak. Sane and crazy. Order and chaos. Sharp and dull. Safe and dangerous. Wonder and frenzy. Alive and dead. Love and fear. Hope and hesitation. Both and.

Diving Into the Day

I am going into this day open to new things. I am making myself available to learn and see differently. I will not let self-protective concerns consume my consciousness. I will not be content to stand on the sideline, but will fill the newly freed space with dance. Out of the security of my own centered presence, I will be able to see and enjoy others–for their own sake and not merely in terms of how they compare to me. I will lay aside measuring and judging. I will embrace honesty and integrity. I will not beat myself up for my weaknesses, nor will I stay quiet about my strengths. I dive headlong into the day, throwing in a playful twist just for fun.

Strewn Glass

Wary, I step gingerly around the edge of the glass strewn everywhere. Sparkling shards menacingly threaten those who approach. Too encumbered to tread lightly, I slice my arch and fulfill another fear, unaware that I leave indelible marks in my wake.

Navigating New Territory

The thing about hiking in new territory is that even if the destination is visible from one's current vantage point, the route there isn't. There are no telling what twists and turns, slopes and ravines, rushing rivers, wild animals, or non-negotiable dead ends lie between here and there. We may start out with one course in mind, but from the next vantage point realize that we must adjust course radically in order to ultimately reach our desired destination. Such adjustments can feel like set-backs or a failure to accurately chart the initial course. In fact, though, we are encountering the simple realities of foreign terrain, which by its very nature is an on-going learning experience. The failure would be not to learn and adjust. That our actual path was not the one we had first set out on or hoped to have traveled must remain secondary to our determination to reach our destination.

Affording or Providing

There's a big difference for me between asking myself whether or not I can afford to do something special for my family, and avering that I will provide the means to pay for that same something. One is a line of inquiry, the answer to which is found by examining the state of our resources as they exist outside of myself. The other is an assertion of power, the fulfillment of which is found by accessing the well of resources located within myself. No mean difference to a guy who has accepted responsibility to be the primary provider for a gang of five and is doing so in a less than stable, guaranteed manner.

Demanding Invitation

Drawing, inviting,
Irresistably beckoning
Me forth.
And yet I resist.
Halting, dragging,
Inexplicably holding
Myself back.

Wisdom eludes my grasp
Or I fail to grasp
But with mock determination
The deep work
The good work
The one who is working.

Intention exchanges harsh words
With motivations hiding
Too deep
Not deep enough.

Dueling fears bicker over nuances
While hope lies smolering in
A forgotten corner.
I stand against
I lean toward
The demanding invitation
To follow.

Firmer Ground of Being

Challenges to the internal illusions
Carefully mastered to shelter the emerging soul.
Authentic, centered confidence stages a daring coup
Only to reel at the unsubstantiated yet irrefutable accusation
Of being but the next illusion.
Disenfranchised from being
By my own brokenness.
Airtight circle of words
Floating isolated over the jagged terrain of my next choice.

That they betray in the courts of conformity
Makes them neither friend nor foe.
Elusive voices who both teach and deceive.
I make my peace with the damning uncertainties
And give myself to those who will ultimately destroy me.
Firmer ground of being.
Though I die,
More truly have I lived.

Going Back to Go Forward

Sometimes going forward requires going back. I'm loathe to admit it, but my buddy makes a pressing case.
I hate going back. Feels like I don't have what it takes to go forward. Or that I lost my way and have to retrace my steps. But what if I left something I need behind? Wouldn't it be as wise as it would be necessary to retrieve it?
And which is worse, admitting that I'm lost or never arriving at my hoped for destination? How can I have what it takes if I'm not willing to discover its name and go out and get it?
And if any of these things are located somewhere along life's journey where I have already climbed, which of the Ten Commandments asserts, "Thou shalt not tread where thou hast trod before?" Base camps are not revisited because of failure, but because of the demands of the trek.
Sometimes going forward requires going back.

Busy Day

Where did the day go? Too early for bed, but the anticipation of sinking down into a bottomless pillow and getting lost in a myriad of surrealistic dreams is growing on me.
It was a good day. That is always welcome. Busy. Active. Engaging. Involved. Even in exhaustion I feel more alive than often when rested. That is as it should be. Hard work is good.

Apprehending Change

Small shifts in uniform gradations like the steady background beat of a warning drum. Relentless and imperceptible, the entire horizon unfolds in a disturbingly miraculous way, reorienting everything within its sweep.
A few sit on the ground, arms crossed, backs to the rising sun, eyes squeezed shut in scandalized rejection of any landscapes not illlustrated in the manual. They form a formidable barrier blocking my way forward until I realize that, like it or not, they are part of the landscape as well.
This is a miracle I cannot apprehend.

Too Clear for Certain

Out of focus in a spinning room and not sure why I am being blamed for the lack of clarity.
I'm always amazed with what clarity some perceive all issues. Life, morality, ethics, etc. are all so obvious there must be something deficient in anyone for whom all is not so obvious. I am one of the "deficient."
Though many adults have tried, the innocent child has not yet piped up to point out that the emperor is wearing no clothes. Talk about obvious.

Public Privacy

Staring vacantly across the room, I look right through anyone and everyone in my line of vision. One kind gentleman pauses to acknowledge my stare, until, of course, he realizes my eyes lack focus. Weary and preoccupied I inhabit my own interior space even as I share the exterior space with a small community of strangers. We all function separately even as we function alongside each other. I find restful pause and comforting safety in my private space among others. Interesting world.

Seething on the Inside

Seething on the inside with no means of outward expression. A tortuous quandary where anger and power and will collide. The mature find ways to be strong and wise and forceful without being coercive or violent. But so many others flounder between humiliating impotence, punishing rage or a twisted moral avoidance. Those whose wills partner with their anger exert enormous influence and change the world for the better. The rest of us slowly (or not so slowly) destroy ourselves and/or those around us. I guess you could say we change the world as well. Seething on the inside, maybe. But really we must be changing the world for good.

Coloring Books

No one asks permission to color outside the lines.
One either cooperates with the structure provided or one doesn't. The lines are there for a reason. We waste our energy resenting them.
There is a season when it is helpful and we are willing to express ourselves within the given structure. At some point, though, we can no longer express ourselves, contribute ourselves, be ourselves within the lines drawn by others. Life's contours are framed by those who dare to color freely, boldly, authentically. We fail both ourselves and the world when we do not enrich and inform and extend those contours with our own distinct strokes.
We learn life by coloring within the lines. We come alive when we color outside the lines.

Gratitude

Yes, life is difficult. M. Scott Peck's now classic assertion holds true. And so I am particularly impressed this morning with the need to be grateful. To be pointed and intentional about setting difficulties in the context of gratitude. Thankful for the fundamentals: health, family, options. Thankful for the framework: gracious, redemptive, engaging. Thankful for the specifics: the occasional stranger's smile in a jostling crowd, an unexpected new friend, a tongue-scorching bean and cheese burrito.
While life's difficulties may color the page, they do not determine the picture being drawn.

True to Who I Am

Unexpected tensions arise, drawing attention to dark, mysterious places where I have not yet trod. Where I do not venture because I have either not acknowledged the existence of such places or not believed I would survive if I swam in such murky waters. But what if the waters are dark not because of some external danger that lurks in their deeps, but because I am not present to bring what light, however weak or strong, I have to offer? The waters will always be dark and fearsome until I wade in and be true to who I am.

Sick of It

How can politicians expect us to take them seriously, when all their efforts are focused on making those on the other side of the aisle look bad? This is "leadership." No time to address the pressing needs of the day or offer solutions, but always time to do another investigation that might turn up dirt. Can you tell I'm a little sick of it?

Why Postpone the Inevitable?

Following through on old matters today. Amazing how much easier it would have been to have faced these issues when they first arose. Why do we tend to wait until our hand is forced? And depending on one's threshold for pain, it can be quite a while before some of us get to that breaking point. And breaking is exactly what it feels like.
And so maybe I have answered my own question. We may feel we risk breaking if we confront some of these difficult issues. What form the breaking takes is, of course, unknown. But that unknown risk is fearsome enough that we are persuaded to hope, however vainly, that the problem may just resolve itself if we ignore it long enough. Ah, silly man. Postpone action at your own peril. The wise do not so blithely ignore the lessons of past mistakes.