For those in the Pacific Northwest, I will be providing a one day “Thriving Through Tough Times” workshop in Tacoma, Washington on May 30, 2009. It will be a fun and highly interactive day of exploring techniques to overcome our toughest challenges.
We will meet at the Center for Spiritual Living on 206 N. J Street. Cost: $25.00. Please contact Frances Lorenz, (253) 383-3151, lorenzmf@aol.com, to register. Hope to see you there!
Where an apple a day might keep you out of the doctor’s office, doing something fun every 24 hours is a great rule of thumb when difficult times come your way. Reviewing Richard Dowden’s new book, Africa: Altered States, Ordinary Miracles
Remembering to play
Finding time to play or do one fun activity feels counterintuitive when we are struggling. Often we’ll want to put our nose to the grindstone to dig ourselves out of our troubles, or just go back to bed. A Puritan work ethic makes adding something we love seem wrong or out of place especially when the economy is out of kilter.
“What brings you joy?” or “What reminds you that no matter how bad the circumstances, this world is worth the effort?” are the two questions I like to ask when coaching a client wading through tough times. When dealing with frustration or despair it can be hard to even recall what we enjoy, let alone add it to our day. Often I’ll hear, “I don’t know what brings me joy. All I do is work and clean the house and neither is remotely fun.”
A way to remember our favorite activities is to consider how we might have spent a free day during the ages of 9 to 13. Harvard researcher Emily Hancock detailed in her book The Girl Within
Make play a daily rule, like brushing your teeth, since when we are struggling joy seems impractical or inappropriate. To justify a bit of play, I try to remember that by shifting our perspective to joy we move from a fight/flight adrenaline rich state into a calmer, higher brain region. We will not only cut our body a break (adrenaline is tough on the system), but also operate at a greater level of effectiveness as we move from reptilian brain to our neocortex. So, what might seem like frivolous activities can be the most grounded when life overwhelms.
Need suggestions? Here’s some gathered favorites: 1/2 hour in nature (or in the hot tub?), play Monopoly, watch dogs playing or the birds fighting at the feeder, sing in the shower really, really loud, roller skate, dance around your kitchen, go to an art museum, hang out with good friends, garden and practice woodworking. And, of course, there is watching the Final Four!
At a recent workshop, a young woman shared, “After our mother died, my sisters and I arrived home for the memorial service. She died way too young and we were all a mess. One night my siblings and I went to the high school football game and cheered like wild women. We whooped and hollered and laughed until we cried. I’m sure others thought that we were drunk, instead we were probably crazy with grief. We didn’t act at all like grieving children should. But, we really needed that night and no one in the community said a thing.”
To explain not posting for the last ten days, I noticed that I was reluctant to admit that we just returned from a California vacation. That reaction seems strange considering in our small town it is an annual communal practice to head south or to the mountains when Montana State University closes its doors for spring break. Go to Moab, Costa Rica and Whistler the third week of March and you will be sure to cross paths with a Bozemanite. Vacation plans have always been standard small talk here where nine months of the year yield snow.
Yet, standing in the grocery check out line earlier this month an acquaintance shared how she was driving two hours away to ski this year to “be good.” I receive a weekly email that broadcasts queries from reporters and I’d say a good dozen of these requests have been on the theme of “Are you still going on vacation, or should you, during an economic downturn?” After watching the attached TED video, I’m wondering if my vacation sharing reticence comes from trying to fly with the flock!
I have been long fascinated with how groups move in unison without apparent choreography. What makes a team rally behind a particular leader? How do organizations suddenly coalesce around a creative solution? What creates a new industry trend? Mathematician Steven Strogatz explains that the synchronized movements of flocks of birds or schools of fish are easily modeled using three basic principles:
When a predator attacks, a fourth principle is added:
Birds scatter and then flock once more as they respond to external attacks; are we attempting to do the same as we adjust to global or regional surprises? I must be applying the first principle as it pertains to discretionary spending, yet recognize, as Strogatz explains, that too much synchronized movement can be detrimental to the whole. Following the presented theory, it might be interesting to consider how we can “fly right” in these times. I welcome your thoughts!
Six months ago turbulent financial markets gained national attention. From a journal entry I wrote last September…
”Every friend I have seen in town over the past days brings up the falling Dow and failing banks as a conversation topic. This was not supposed to happen. They are struck by how very smart Harvard MBAs constructed this mess and the government let it all occur. What can they trust? As I type, I wonder what the effects of this mass loss of faith in our government and the financial system will yield in the days and weeks ahead. What would this paragraph say six months from now?
Carrie explains, ‘I lived outside of San Francisco during the large earthquake of 1994. I remember friends struggling for months afterward since the ground had moved underneath their feet. Somehow it didn’t bother me since I believed it could and had prepared for an earthquake such as the one we experienced. But, now with the economy falling apart around us, I feel like the ground is unstable and I understand for the first time their panic.’
Fantasies of hording money between the mattresses filtered in as I drifted off to sleep last night. Before bed after the Dow lost nearly 1,000 points over two days, my husband Bruce sat on the couch, face lit by his black Mac Book and scanned online newspapers. He read off to me the Wall Street Journal headline ‘Worst Crisis Since ’30s, With No End Yet in Sight.’ A CPA and tax lawyer, his radar is tuned to the financial markets, and I rely on the blips and beeps that appear on his screen to send off my own alarms. Although a man of understatement most of the time, I could tell even he was concerned. While visualizing hording soup in my basement, I can hear my alarm system is screaming, ‘warning, warning…’”
Six months later, I still have periodic soup stocking fantasies depending on the week…and WSJ headlines. I wish I did not. I’d rather consistently possess optimism and poise with a dash of clarity, but that seems beyond my reach.
Six months has a special connotation for me as a mother. I usually got disheartened about a ½ a year into each child’s arrival. After our first son, I remember thinking, “I should have lost all this baby fat by now,” “We should be settled into this new family configuration,” and “Why is this still so ridiculously hard?” Six months is a long time to endure chaos and confusion; by then I have used up most of my just-muscle-it-through reserves.
To survive, my logic became if our culture’s standard mourning, or better said, “adjustment” period historically was a year, then shouldn’t I give myself the same? We knocked off an old life when each new baby arrived. The metaphoric gravestones could have read:
For my children – if any of you have read this far – what we got in exchange was worth more than any loss we experienced. There was never a need to wear black, although, I do like how I look in that color. Understand that by recognizing that we were in an adjustment period culturally prescribed as a year, I relaxed and let go the need to have it all together. As an older, wiser mother once told me, “You are not supposed to be graceful during this phase.”
Signs of six-month financial chaos exhaustion are appearing in my circles. It seems we are asking similar questions including, “Shouldn’t have this mess figured out by now?” and “Why is this still so ridiculously hard?” Yet, we could have a memorial service for a past leader in our community, Mr. Stable Banking Industry – From 1935 To 2008. As we adjust to our new family configuration without our dear “big brother,” I realize I need to allocate a full year. Someone wonderful may appear to fill our past protector’s position, but in the meantime, I’ve still got a six-month excuse to be less than graceful as we traverse this uncharted territory. Know that I accord you the same.
March 9, 2009 -- After Gas Line Explosion
It was a tough week in Bozeman, Montana. Start with a worsening financial picture and then add a major gas line explosion on downtown Main Street Thursday morning. Five historic buildings burned to the ground, two others sustained major fire damage and dozens of windows were shattered in the surrounding blocks. All of the five-block downtown bore scars from the blast.
Main Street Before
By Sunday, one casualty was officially reported, although the town grapevine could have told you within hours that Tara Bowman, the director of Montana Trails Gallery had gone to work early that day. Given the extent of the discharge and the damage, the town is still in awe that there was no other loss of life or injuries. Up to a mile away, friends reported thinking a truck had plowed into their house. Others watched debris propelled 300 feet in the air from their offices. In a federal building four blocks away, the force had Forest Service employees convinced that an elevator cable had broken and sent a car crashing four floors.
Though impossible to surmise how a town feels, let alone a single individual, I keep running into confusion, sadness and frustration at the grocery store and the coffee shop. Yesterday, a friend returning from a non-profit board meeting exclaimed, “Folks are really worn out. The stress is getting to them. I haven’t seen so many people biting one another’s heads off.” Attempting to answer, “How did this happen?” “What does this mean?” and “How do I process loss and relief at the same time?” is a draining process. The past weeks have tapped internal reserves, which helps me understand why reactions of anger or even rage naturally accompany any major adjustment.
Shortly before she passed away in 2004, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross brought together three decades of pioneering death and dying work in On Grief and Grieving
The destructive power anger can emit scares us. People kill each other out of anger. They beat their loved ones. They say terrible things that they should later regret. The heartless torture and murders in civil wars around the globe are much too similar to ancient descriptions of grief’s rage to interpret them as simply demonic. For example, in The Iliad 
Yet, feeling anger is a whole lot different than using that passion to hurt another. I really appreciate the Biblical character Job’s authenticity as he grieved. Frustrated at God, he tells three friends why it is highly unfair that he has been treated so poorly. Translator Stephen Mitchell notes in The Book of Job
How can we surface and safely release fury? Many cultures ritualize externalization of anger to move the grief process along. For example, in the Dagara tribe of Berkana Fasu communal water rituals are used to transform anger, rage, frustration and sadness. An angry person is seen simply as someone “on the road to tears.” In the Nyakyusa tribe of South Africa, the burial ceremonies include a war dance. An elderly tribesman explained, “We dance because there is war in our hearts. A passion of grief and fear exasperates us…Death is a fearful and grievous event that exasperates those men nearly concerned and makes them want to fight.” In America, Kubler-Ross ritualized the expression of anger by having grief workshop participants beat on mattresses and pillows until they felt relief.
The Buddhist tradition consistently counsels to just allow tough emotions instead of taking them out on others. Teacher Phillip Moffitt suggests in Dancing with Life
Like others around the world who have experienced similar events, sometimes weekly, I expect we will adjust. Meanwhile, my thoughts go out to the friends and family of Ms. Bowman and to those who lost their livelihoods or residences last Thursday. I hope this finds you adjusting and fairing well wherever you call home.
In my pursuit of leaders who play well, I happened upon one who literally plays well every day as a musician and conductor of the Boston Philharmonia. I am entranced by Benjamin Zander’s philosophy of looking for possibility in every situation and in every person we meet. His book, The Art of Possibility
I hope you enjoy Benjamin Zander and discover wonderful possibility in these interesting times.
I know of no other manner of dealing with great tasks than as play; this…is an essential pre-requisite. – Friedrich Nietzsche
On Monday, the Dow Jones Industrial stock index was the lowest in fifteen years. The banking industry continues to falter and AIG needs another $30 billion. Dare I mention that a US-backed war continues six years and counting in Iraq? Well, you gotta laugh.
No, really, you have to laugh. From the practices of Zen Buddhism, Hopi and Zuni ritual clowning, and on to the modern philosophical writings, around the world we are taught to regard laughter and comedy as critical disciplines. When the going gets tough, find a way to crack yourself up.
In the American Southwest, the clown historically played a pivotal role in addressing tragedy. At Pueblo funerals, scantily dressed clowns in rags from the Kachina Zuni tradition would pretend to seduce the widow, make fun of the corpse and to copulate with one another with constructed and exaggerated genitalia. This practice disgusted early anthropologists, yet when interviewed, Zuni clowns explained the highly structured and sacred nature of their work. By bringing farce to such seriousness, they restored balance and health to their community. Through their antics, life is merged with death, the mundane with the sacred and levity with misery. The clowns held what appeared to be irreconcilable opposites and in the chaos they created, they awarded the group deeper order and peace. As Kierkegaard once said, “It is certainly unjust to the comical to regard it as the enemy of the religious.”
We need to laugh, especially when we are miserable. Laughter allows us to see our situation with greater objectivity. It cracks open fixed beliefs as comedy is based on displaying the ludicrous in what we might believe to be beyond reproach. Example, yesterday David Letterman’s Top Ten Things Overhead in New York During Today’s Snowstorm included, “#4, Al Gore can suck it!” and “”#2 No, officer, I offered her $50 to blow on my hands.” If we laugh, we must then confront the inner conflict of also regarding global warming or prostitution as deathly serious topics. By allowing ourselves to see the humor, we have to detach a bit and notice where we may be too fixated in our beliefs. Silliness breeds flexibility and creativity.
Zen Buddhists believe that enlightenment is accompanied with laughter Conrad Hyers explains in The Laughing Buddha: Zen and the Comic Spirit
Venerable Gon’yo asked Joshu, ”How is it when a person does not have a single thing?”
Joshu said, “Throw it away.”
Gon’yo said, “I say I don’t have a single thing. What could I ever throw away?”
Joshu said, “If so, carry it around with you.”
Feels like there’s a punch line in here somewhere…
I had to research ritual clowning before my husband’s daily routine got any respect. As an estate planning and business lawyer, my spouse spends his day talking about death and taxes. Yet, somehow he is a really happy, and funny, guy. As one friend shared, “Only your husband could get me laughing about dying and picking guardians for our kids.” I think I’m figuring out one of his secrets of sanity. Each morning from my bed, I hear coffee maker gurgles and giggles in the kitchen as Bruce eats breakfast while reviewing the previous late night TV monologues from his laptop. He suggests the New York Times website, http://laughlines.blogs.nytimes.com if you are interested. I find something innately right about this treasure trove living on the same website that covers the news that’s been making us cry this week.
Another morning humor ritual is emigrating from India. I have included a short video clip below on Dr. Madan Kataria who in the past ten years has formed over 3000 laughter clubs across his country. Kataria and his fellow members practice “laughter yoga” each day to improve their health and well-being.
So, we’ve got to laugh. I leave you with a favorite mental image from a wise and funny friend David who was a clown in the Ringling Brothers circus to pay his way through college. After emergency open-heart surgery in his early forties, he found himself too quickly pulled out of bed to walk the halls by a bossy nurse. Chest aching, shaky and miserable, I will paraphrase how he explained his predicament, “There I was, exposing my backside in a flimsy hospital gown, pushing an IV stand and looking like hell. Fancy education and consulting practice were distant memories as I felt and probably looked like a 90 year old instead of 42. Life sucked at that moment. Yet, to get myself down that hall I began to hum the theme song to Bonanza, you know the one where they come riding into town…really, what else could I do?”
Lately, I have been thinking that conversations work like doors. Sometimes conversations are “open” and through them we can see new possibilities. Other times you can feel a discussion closing down, locking out new information or diverse viewpoints.
Powerful questions have a great habit of re-opening constricted conversations. This week I ran across a short video from Thailand that asks two intriguing questions:
Asking myself these questions has a centering effect when in stressful situations. They open my internal doorways. The two questions help me clarify what I can control and my appropriate next steps; I pause (a good thing in conflict) as I consider, “OK, what really am I responsible for in this situation?” and “What are my highest commitments?” And, as seen in the video, asking others can transform someone you believe you know well into a fascinating stranger.
I invite you to give them a try and welcome your insights!
Wander where there is no path. Be all that heaven gave you, but act as though you have received nothing. Be empty, that is all. — Chuang Tzu
A dear friend recently shared a series of losses that he had suffered. As he explained how a terminally ill friend had become the “final straw” in breaking his foundational beliefs about death and his own mortality, I found myself strangely excited. In case you might find me a bit twisted, I hope you’ll understand that my enthusiasm rose from a deep belief in the power of confusion.
I wouldn’t wish such tragedy on anyone, yet we don’t seem to become wiser when all is easy and understood. Really, why should we? If I have the world figured out, I don’t have much incentive to dig deeper. It’s as though crisis creates cracks that allows wisdom’s light to seep in. I trust that as my friend earnestly wrestles with how to deal with great loss and the inevitability of death, he is going to gather insight. Selfishly, I hope he’ll share his garnered prizes with us.
It feels like our core beliefs create a sort of scaffolding or something solid to stand on over the sea of uncertainty. “I am a mother,” “I am from Minnesota,” or “I live in a democracy,” might be some of the planks that support my identity or the lookout post I have built. But, with enough time, the wood gets worn. Tough times also have a habit of ripping up carefully lain floorboards, like the globally favorite, “The financial markets are secure.”
When my core beliefs are battered and I can’t tie reality up with a nice bow, I can feel set adrift in that sea. Questions like, “Who am I? What do I believe? What should I do next?” become hard to answer. Life, or my interpretation of it, gets messy or confusing.
I’ve come to have an innate trust in this messiness. My perspective expands when life pushes me to move into a state of not knowing. The more I become comfortable hanging out in the confusion, the more clarity I bring back. Meanwhile, we all have a fundamental desire to get back to solid ground again; I like to know who I am, or pretend to anyway, and to believe that I know how this all works!
Hanging out in messiness as mediator has helped. Usually you will have two sides at the negotiation table that have completely different versions of what occurred in a dispute. A first impulse is to want to determine who is right and who is crazy. Yet, the mediator’s job isn’t to find the real truth, but instead to hold a confusing reality that is created by assuming that the opposing stories are equal. Allowing there to be irreconcilable differences opens the possibility of a third interpretation of the situation that the parties can create together.
Without firm footing on how the world works, or who I am, I notice that I slow down and better consider each step forward. It creates a rawness or necessary vulnerability, as I wonder what else I have been missing. It wakes up my compassion as I realize that we are all madly trying to piece together how to play well with very limited information. Also, if we take a cue from all the major religions, learning to love the mess is “right work” and one of our main life tasks. So, I get hopeful when those I love dip into confusion, and look forward to the treasures my dear friend might uncover in that chaotic space.
Art is the lie that enables us to realize the truth. – Pablo Picasso
I have an abiding fascination with how art can transform perceptions of our challenges. Although we may perceive the arts (painting, poetry, dance) as a cultured practice of creating beauty, historically artists have also acted as highly effective conflict transformers. Pablo Picasso’s Guernica is a case in point. To protest a massive bombing of over a thousand Basque Guernican citizens on market day during the Spanish Civil War, Picasso began the large mural fourteen days after the attack. The work’s subsequent tour through Europe in 1937 brought widespread attention to the brutality of the conflict and its collaborators.
Guernica, Pablo Picasso
DIA blue horse sculpture
This week I enjoyed reading about how art was used to creatively protest…well, art! To comment on the new Luis Jimenez blue horse sculpture installed at the Denver International Airport, real estate developer Rachel Hultin solicited “protest haikus” (a 5 syllable, 7 syllable, 5 syllable form of Japanese poetry) to provide to the Denver Mayor’s office. The 32-foot fiberglass piece with glowing red eyes and fully “equipped” had folks’ creative juices flowing. Over 200 poets added their two cents in classic form:
Because of this thing/People think they are in hell/Instead of Denver
Ugly devil horse/horrifies the traveler/shames our fair city
Eyes redder than mine/ Little horse on the prairie / Welcome to Denver!
The latest artistic effort to capture my attention is described in the attached YouTube video. Paul “Moose” Curtis uses inner city grime as his canvas. Through his work, he creates beauty while raising awareness about urban environmental conditions. May you enjoy and employ your creativity!