Stepping Back into Trust

We have this thing in our family - a rule you might say - for those 6 and under: no screen time on school days. All in all, I like it. It simplifies the boundaries around how much 2-dimensional exposure our Kaya gets, and hopefully supports her brain in all the ways that conventional wisdom now asserts (or is that just Portlandia-wisdom?!). But, I have to admit, as soon as she goes for the remote and makes the 'Nahko' plea, it takes a decent amount of effort and commitment for me to deny the YouTube request. 

Tonight, I didn't feel like putting forth the effort. 
I hear just a few notes of his music and I, like Kaya, am hooked, eager for the calm and inspiration I know can soon follow...

Tonight was no exception. As soon as I heard a few lines, my mind went spinning into Group Leader Land, dancing around Mark's invitation for me to join as guest speaker on our leader call tomorrow. It amazes me what speaks to me in Nahko's music, and how I can so directly relate my experience to his -- testament to the ultimate realization that I've come to in my Group Leader process as well:

We're all one, and thus, we're in this together. 

In his recent Nahko Doco Part III, I heard him refer to his music as 'real talk' - essentially "story-telling and truth about life, the process of the human condition, and the experience of evolution for somebody..." While I had quite a different upbringing than he did, my challenges feels similar, and to hear him express them so directly, so eloquently through song, serves as both reminder for me of where I've been and where I dream to go. 

In his recent Nahko Doco Part III, I heard him refer to his music as 'real talk' - essentially "story-telling and truth about life, the process of the human condition, and the experience of evolution for somebody..." While I had quite a different upbringing than he did, my challenges feels similar, and to hear him express them so directly, so eloquently through song, serves as both reminder for me of where I've been and where I dream to go. 

Oh, I fear nothing
No thing fears me
Justice has different hats for different days
Please release my anger
Love thy neighbor
Put that pain to some good use anyway

When I first started our Portland CCL group 3 years ago, I was quite afraid. I was afraid I couldn't do it. I was afraid I'd be alone, that no one else cared as much, or enough. I was afraid that if I couldn't, then we wouldn't make it. All of us. None of us.  And with that fear, came some anger and more strongly, resent. Resent when people wouldn't. Resent when they said they couldn't. Frustration that they didn't. And overwhelm that I did. And deepened was the separation between me and them. 

But over time, along with a healthy dose of awareness and acceptance at my deepest patterns, that began to change. As I learned to judge myself less, and accept my own weaknesses, I was able to do the same towards others. Just like I'd always heard was true, but didn't know how to even begin. How could I accept weakness in myself if I, according to these fear-laden thoughts of mine, was the only person who was going to do anything? There was no room for weakness, no time. We need to act now, and the action needs to be well-directed, right?! My ego heard that and ran with it. No room for error. No room for weakness, in me or other. No room for relaxation. But I hit a point where I was ready to quit. Taking it all on as mine became too much. Something had to change, and though I wasn't sure how, the fact was clear as climate change. 

In past life, I cut throats and scalps
And in this life, I mend the wounds I delt
Maybe by my hands or by my words alone
Maybe by my hands or by my words alone!

While I, unlike Nahko, have no Native blood, I've certainly delt many a wound in my role as CCL volunteer and Group Leader. I was careful with my words, as part of my Way was to assure that people liked me and were impressed. But underneath my words were messages laden with judgment and fear, and I know that people pick up on that. And those who didn't, surely felt the one that I delivered with my hands and my actions: "I got this." And if 'I got this', then they don't need to. And what do they do? Stay back. Stay involved in their own life. Save actions for later. Stay uninspired. 

So, I had to 'mend'. I had to come clean with what I humbly accepted, and step back in a way that made more space for them: physically and philosophically. And into that space they grew. Where I left a hole, they filled it. And they continue to. They step up on their own, they say 'yes' to my requests, they take actions and plan presentations and get tabling gigs. They ask, on the 3 hour drive to our regional conference, to be "the official researcher". 

And I breathe lighter.

Teach me honor
Must remember
Don't be selfish with all your love anyway

Mark always told us to love and appreciate our volunteers. I wanted to, I really did. And I kept trying and trying. But until I was able to accept and name my fear, and do the same with everything that followed in its wake, I couldn't move it aside enough to make room for who I really wanted to be.  

I tilt my head back 
Howl like you said 
In the end, my body's spirit anyway
In the end, my body's spirit anyway!

I finally learned to trust. Trust that it's not all up to me. In fact, it's not even all up to us. And I'm not even saying it's up to God or Buddha or another fill-in-the-blank deity. But when I can relax into that space of trusting that no matter what, it will work out...whatever that means and whatever that looks like...I'm much better off. From that place, no matter what it takes to get there, I can get inspired, and fulfill my purpose to do the same for others.

It's such a crazy catch-22. If I'm too afraid to step back out of fear of what will happen if I do, then I never get to see what happens when I do. Add a bit of trust to the mix, some faith in self, other, and universal design, and it's quite amazing what can transpire...

I will do things I've never done before
'Cause I'm powerful and I'm not afraid no more!

Thank you, Nahko Bear. You continue to inspire. 
And thank you, CCL, and every single one of you volunteers (and staff!). You continue to do the same...

For more information on Nahko and Medicine for the People, including lyrics and videos, check out my Nahko & Medicine for the People page as well as their website. For more information on CCL, including how and where to get involved, check out my page and their website.

Earth and hands photo courtesy of leadershipandspirituality.com.

Trusting a New Way

As you drive down the ramp from the St.Johns bridge, there's a pull-out on the right hand side, just next to a beautiful creek flowing down from Forest Park. Locals know it well, at least in passing, as we often sit and stare in traffic, waiting for the light to lead us over the river. Lately, this pull out has been serving as my parking spot, as I head up the road to the official trailhead. But this morning, I was up for something different. As much as I know that I'll love it during and after my run, I was feeling resistance to this new structure in my life (as usual!), and thought I might mix it up just enough to change the flavor and motivate me further. 

As soon as I heard the crashing of water on rock, I knew I'd chosen well. The burn in my legs kicked in quickly as the creekside trail lifted westward, and my sense of adventure began to beam.  The trail kept climbing, weaving tiny switchbacks up a steep litte hilllside, and it became clear that fewer and fewer people take this route. I paused for a moment, taking in the bright green of the moose-like groundcover, and a hawk screamed. It felt a bit surreal, and I definitely didn't feel in the city anymore. The trail continued to swerve through the trees, over and through downed trees and Oregon grape, and with time, grew much less defined.

At one point, as I stood there in contemplation of the new route I'd chosen, I was struck with a moment of concern and disappointment. Granted, it was minimal, and had I not headed into the forest in part to find the inspiration to write, I don't think I would have noticed. My mind knew exactly where my car was, and could probably even find my house through the trees if I tried hard enough. But my ego responded on auto-pilot to the messages sent from my reptilian brain: Where's the path? Did I make a wrong choice?  Is it time to go back? 

In that moment, when I'd thought the trail ended and felt alone with nothing to follow, I paused. Initially feeling stuck in the overwhelm and the spinning of my thoughts, I took a few steps. With that forward action, I could suddenly see what was previously beyond view: more path. And as the path grew less clear, that kept happening, to the point where pausing, listening, and taking discerned action became the norm. I find it's the same in life when attempting to move past fear or doubt. Pause to notice it. Let it be there. Sense into next direction and take a few steps, letting trust overtake the doubt that those steps might be leading in the 'wrong' direction*. 

And with that, we rise to a different place, and gain clarity, which can propel us to start the process over again. 

Clearly, Forest Park isn't Glacier or Yosemite, and I know I'm just a short distance from the civilization and support, but the  method is the same because it's all sourced from the same internal responses. Fear is fear, both in the wilds and in life. What if we can't mitigate global warming? What if everyone else gives up? What if people stay too busy? What if my way gets in the way of other people contributing? And while it may seem that the best way to address any of these fears is 'our way' - the way that has propelled us through many situations in our past  - there is definitely another way which can bring us closer to that which we want in life. A different path is available, whether tried and true or completely new. 

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It's hard to let go of that way that feels most comfortable. I was just discussing this concept with another CCL group leader in our region. There's a lot of perceived safety, security, and structure in that comfortable, well-traveled path. I can go a little faster on the official trail, and be less focused on the moment. But does that really get me to where I want? As a new group leader, starting a Citizens' Climate Lobby group a few years ago, it felt like all I had to rely on was 'my way', as I sat in fear of what might happen if I couldn't make a difference. It really felt like a matter of life or death for me, from an ecological and societal perspective, which left me feeling that much more attached to my way. For me, that literally looked like doing and having things my way, to the point that I would give explicit direction, take it all on as mine and my responsibility, and be slow to offer others trust in how and what they might bring to the table. But, my ego also knew that it needed people to like me, so I did everything I could to master this art of perfectionistic solo activism in a very sweet way, while trying to hide my stress and any indication that I couldn't. And when I grew tired and resentful and so overwhelmed that I was ready to quit, I knew that it was time to find and learn to trust a new way. 

Trust doesn't always come so easily. It's scary to let go of what feels 'right', relying instead on more of the unknown and what could possibly let us down - particularly when the stakes seem so high. But if there is no right, then wrong is gone too, and we're more free to play in the space of what is really possible through collaboration,  cooperation, and exploration.

*A key aspect of the U-process, as laid out by Otto Scharmer in the U.Lab and in his amazing book Leading from the Emerging Future: From Ego-system to Eco-system Economies

Integrating the Heart

It seems like such an easy thing, 'integrating the heart', right? It's obviously, in a certain sense, mission control of the one and only body we have on earth, and without it, we clearly wouldn't get all that far. And yet, it's ironically so easy to leave it out, to drown out the sound of its beat and the sensation of its rhythm with myriad aspects life that feel much more important. 

My dad used to tell me that I should do something with my writing. Coming from my Dad, that meant a lot to me, after what felt like a lifetime of trying to be 'good enough' to earn his love and respect. But despite the elation that I felt from his compliment, I have continued to resist the idea. I love writing. I love the feeling that I get, the sense of timelessness that occurs, and the intense experience of being so in the moment and simultaneously so reflective. It's like living in a dream world, one in which I can craft whatever I want with my fingers and thoughts, in an attempt to paint a picture of my inner experience. And yet, I never want to feel forced to write because as soon as you bring in the 'have to', the whole experience is changed...and the heartbeat fades.

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2015 Pacific Northwest Regional Conference of the Citizens' Climate Lobby - Partial Group Photo of 120+ participants

We explored this concept in a workshop that I led this weekend at our Citizens' Climate Lobby Regional Conference in Seattle. What is the difference between our experience of obligation and passion, between 'have to' and 'want to', between should and wonder? In our head, I think most of us understand the difference, and we may even feel the dissonance in our body as well. But taking action towards change is quite a different thing. How do we integrate the heart? How do we turn those obligations into passion, or direct our life and our attention in a way that allows us to be more filled with love and wonder than dread and obligation?

While there are a number of ways I attempt this, I find I can get there consistently through running in the forest. While I can't profess to love running in the same way I love writing, I can say that I'm slowly figuring out what is available to me when I push through that initial resistance, as I explored last week, and get out into the woods to run. I'm forced into my body. I can't help but feel my heart thumping in my chest, and to notice the heart-shaped wild-ginger budding on the forest floor. This is possible when we integrate our heart, tapping into the source in and around us, as the plants so naturally emulate. When we dig into our source, connecting to that which truly feeds us, we can simultaneously reach into the direction we want to grow.

We all have our most direct access to integration, that place or circumstance that allows us to feel that sense of aliveness, that state of excitement and wonder. When we can access this place, we are in a better position to pull in various aspects of our life in a way that moves us towards who, what, and where we want to be. Whether it's running in the wilderness or listening to music or dancing or singing or writing in your journal, that place exists, and finding it can change our life.

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In the (somewhat wordy and nerdy) language of the workshop I taught this weekend on the quadrants lens of Integral Theory that I use as an Integral Coach...while I am so often tempted to choose stay in my 'upper right space' of doing and accomplishing, to gain what feels like more time and productivity, I sacrifice my access to my heart in that 'upper left space' - and my momentary experience remains disjointed, needing to rely on itself for any and all energy and motivation. While I may have more time (in that lower right space), I feel more trapped by the pressure to perform and produce (stalled by my experience in the Upper Left), so it takes me longer to get going and more effort to sustain productivity (in the Upper Right). When I commit to running on a schedule, though, and follow through despite initial resistance that may arise because of my strong need for productivity and goal fulfillment (my UR quadrant orientation), I have begun to integrate: my Lower Right systems & structures space with the schedule, with the Upper Right action space of going on a run, with the Upper Left more intentional & subjective space of feeling connected and at peace in nature. For a more thorough overview of the All Quadrants aspect of Integral Theory, click here.

So, while it's not easy to integrate the heart, it's definitely do-able. While it may take time and effort that may initially seem counterproductive and counterintuitive, the pay-off is huge. Who doesn't want greater connection to the passions that drive us and to the source that feeds our soul? And for those of us that seek to make our mark on the world, and on climate change solutions, in a way that truly matters for all of us, integrating our heart is the key to sustainability.

Huge thank you to those of you who were in my workshop in Seattle - I really enjoyed the opportunity to be with you! If you are interested in having access to the workshop documents, they can be found on my Citizens' Climate Lobby page under Resources. 

Resisting Peace

This morning, just as I was about to head out the door to jog my daughter to school, I glanced at myself in the mirror. Generally, not an event that I would do much writing about -- I've actually felt pretty at peace with my body, excited that it's finally become more of a vessel for me in my life as opposed to my entire identity. However, my experience this morning kicked up some dust and I'm feeling inspired to share.

Things had been going amazingly well all morning, and both Kaya and I were in amazing spirits. She had gotten up early, surprised me with 25 minutes of piano practice, feeding the dog, setting the table, and allowing me some space to finish a short meditation. She was beaming with pride, and excited to get out the door to be the first one to school. Dressed on her own, boots and jacket on, helmet in hand, she was headed down the stairs with her bike to surprise me yet again. And then, I caught the light. 

We have a window next to the mirror in our living room, and somehow, between the clothes I was wearing, the angle I was standing, and perhaps the momentary memory of the ice cream I ate last night, I went into 'self-bash'. My mind began to spin, dishing all sorts of judgments about me and this particular part of my body, worrying frantically that I'd finally crossed the line. 

But we had to go. She wanted to be the first one to school. So, grabbing my things, I run out the door, acting directly from my new frame of mind: Must change. Must fix. Must improve. 

Not good. 

The next ten minutes are some of those that Mama wishes she could erase and do over. Determined to head up to Forest Park for a longer run than I know I'll do in the neighborhood, I change plans on Kaya and decide to drive. Disappointment ensues, as does wet sock, impatience, and mini-tantrum based on a concern that she'll no longer be first. And, of course, spinning in my self-doubt and criticism, I have nothing left in the way of love and compassion to offer.

After hugs, kisses, and apologies attempting to mend my mistakes, I begin to drive south, headed for the hill. But then, a new plan begins to form in my mind, recalling that I'll be down by the river. Surely an afternoon run in the sun would be quite nice. If I did that, I could dive right into my long list for the day, getting more done, faster. As I pull up to my house, I pause momentarily. Am I just procrastinating? Do I really want to run later on the river, or do I really just not want to run now? The answer was clear, and I knew in my heart of hearts that Forest Park would heal, as would a run. 

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My instinct wasn't validated until halfway up the hill, after my lungs started burning and my muscles began to scream. I began to feel better, despite, or likely because of, the pain. With my ultimate decision to follow my heart, I'd forced myself back into my body, out of my judging mind, and allowed myself once again to feel connected to my place in the world, dwarfed among the trees. 

Such resistance!?!  Granted, I know we don't always know what is 'best', what is 'good for us' in the moment. There are plenty of moments, esp. when it comes to chocolate and what I like to do with it when I feel stressed, where I feel completely lost, confused as to what to do and where to turn. But on some level, I know. And I think a lot of us do. And yet, resistance arises. Don't run. Run less. Stay home. Get shit done. Power through the list. Forest Park is too far...

Standing at the top of the hill, meditating momentarily on my new perspective and peace of mind and body, I hear a cacophony of validation in my mind. The body talks and meditation helps, says Nahko Bear. Stay mindful...stay mindful, his lyrics echo. 

I needed to get out of my own way, move the 'me' that was blocking access to inspiration, inner peace, and even productivity. But why is staying so tempting? It's crazy how comfortable it is to 'stay', and how it feels like such a huge effort sometimes to take actions around those things that are best for our overall well-being. I know that the forest is healing, and that going on an early run in the forest inspires my day. I know that being outside and away from civilization (even just across the bridge by 5 minutes) allows me a perspective that is hard to access otherwise. I'm clear that getting into my body, either through action or stillness, does the same. And yet I forget. And resist. Even after years of training. 

It is from this place that I feel so committed to crafting something for the world, transforming my prototype into a reality. Something that reminds us, that supports us in getting out and back into it, so that from that place, we can make the difference that needs to be made. Because clearly, there's no way we'll be changing the world from a place of self-doubt in front of the mirror...