Category Archives: Inspiration

Holding Perspective

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What is your relationship with buses?

The pick up truck in front of me let a city bus into traffic the other day. I was already in a great mood, driving to Ethos, excited to see my friends and move my body. That this big white monster truck did not try to compete with the bigger white striped monster bus somehow gave me hope for humanity.

More and more drivers flout traffic law these days–do you notice? It’s the same way I see passengers ignoring the fastened seat belt sign on planes. We just don’t care about rules anymore? Or each other? I see it as discourteous, self-absorbed, and generally rude. It makes me annoyed and angry, then sad. I try not to let it poison my attitude toward humans in general. The man who stands up during the plane’s ascent to rummage through the overhead bin is the same man who offers to help me get my carry-on down when we land (which I politely decline because I go to Ethos, thank you very much!). What is up with us lately?

This clear, crisp morning heading westbound on Belmont, a pleasant surprise of vehicular civility made me think. How often do I let buses into traffic in front of me? Not as often as I’d like to declare. Why is that? I generally drive peacefully: I leave two to three seconds between myself and the car in front of me. If you signal, I will absolutely slow down and let you into my lane. If you let me in, I will wait until I can see you in my rearview mirror and wave enthusiastically. I make eye contact with pedestrians and gesture to them to cross in front of me. But with buses, I intentionally speed up to get in front before they cut me off. Huh.

Is it tit for tat? Bus drivers can be pretty aggressive, I have to say. And they almost never wave back, even if eye contact is made. I never realized before that morning how adversarial I feel toward them. Whoa. I wonder if they get this from all of us car drivers?

I took the bus all the time as a student. I spent an hour and a half by train, train, and buuuuus to visit Hubs when he started med school a year before me. The trade off at rush hour was that there were more buses to catch, and also more buses and cars on the road in traffic; no time of day was faster. I controlled nothing; it was a practice in patience and relinquishing agency in a lot of ways.

This perspective came rushing over me all at once as I rolled through the intersection behind the pick up truck, behind the bus, so leisurely, listening to my favorite music in my SUV, all warm and cozy, water bottle at my side. If I encountered an accident or needed to stop for something, I could change my route ad lib. I had at least partial control of my time, my path, and my choices. Not so the people on the bus. They were captive unless they got off, and then they’d have to pay more in time, money, and hassle to change buses, routes, or mode of transport.

My perspective broadened suddenly and unexpectedly: I am not just in relationship with the bus driver(s). I’m in relationship with everybody on a given bus–the people who don’t get to pick their seat, if they get to sit at all; the people who had to get up that much earlier, leave their families, to allow for the extra time on public transit; the people who may not get enough sleep or have time to exercise because their commute takes so long.

Bus drivers are road advocates for their passengers–asserting themselves and their charges into the morass of the rude rest of us–getting their people where they need to go. They have a schedule to fulfill, navigating tight turns and oblivious drivers looking at our phones, ignoring stop signs, and running red lights. I wonder how they think of themselves? I will think of them this way from now on, and give them the space and deference to ferry their passengers with one less obstacle in their way. I’ll wave and smile more, too.

I Hold Perspective for Us, friends. It opens our minds to new points of view, to learning, to insight and epiphany–to connection. It lightens the burden of competition and scarcity. It protects us against mutual isolation and social disintegration.
Where could you benefit from some new perspective this week?

Holding Resonance

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“Resonance over reach.”

Mallon Writers inspire again! For nine months we have Zoomed two Fridays a month to chat, write, and connect, and I always come away nourished. Joan attributed her writing prompt tonight to storyteller Jay Acunzo whose website states, “My premise is that we should all prioritize resonance over reach to grow our businesses, audiences, and causes.” It’s about synchronous vibration: The transmission of energy through particles in an elastic medium.

In my mind, resonance generated well facilitates reach.

The Law of Diffusion of Innovation describes how ideas gain momentum and spread through a population or social system. About 2.5% of the population innovates in any given domain. In that domain, another 10-15% of people are early adopters–those with whom the innovation resonates. From there, about 35% comprise the early majority, another 35% the late majority, and finally about 16% the laggards. The early majority vibrate in harmony with the innovators–their respective particle waves are resonant and consonant–music to one another’s ears.
Once an idea or message vibration is established and strong, it then amplifies outward, creating new harmonies–between early adopters and members of the early majority and so on. Synergy and amplitude of resonance with each degree of distal reach is less intense, but enough to maintain momentum of movement–of adoption.

As I consider my message of openness, curiosity, humility, and connection across difference, this reminder buoys me. I first learned about this ‘law’ from Simon Sinek’s TED talk, How Great Leaders Inspire Action. I was an early adopter of life coaching. I am definitely an early adopter of bridging political divisions through dialogue and personal connection. My job here is to help establish the stable frequency, the harmonic base, like the initial rhythm of a new music composition (think Ben Folds inventing a new song). Creating a memorable and meaningful orchestral masterpiece starts with grounding in a steady beat and key, then adding each instrument section for its own unique contribution for melodious and harmonious depth and texture of sound. This kind of resonance affects not just our ears and cognition, but our very souls, our humanity.

Attuning to resonance is how I sense, discern, and navigate my way through any interaction of political polarization. I seek that rhythm, that vibration in the person/people I’m with, listening for the frequency that I can track to connect. Connection across difference is not for everybody, at least not on the surface. Shouting my message to the masses through a bullhorn wastes energy and likely drives more people away than it attracts. But this quiet yet bold, cadenced pulse that emits from my depths can reverberate with the same, maybe small tone in someone despite and through the noise–the magnet that draws us closer rather than repels. [Funny how it’s electrical polar opposites that attract? It’s a paradox I addressed last year!]

My vibration resonates for connection on the wavelength of possibility.

It occurs to me that I can only sustain this resonance if my rhythm is true to myself–my own innate heartbeat of connection–that which is natural, organic, effortless, and cannot be faked. Because that is the only way I will find those who truly resonate, the only way I will really reach anyone, near and far. So at the same time I effuse, emit, and amplify, I must also insulate. I must resist those who say my message is futile, that the cause is lost, or that I must alter my message to fit some norm or mold. Nope. My fellow connectors and I find one another by sensing our shared deep, steady beat.

I Hold Resonance for Us, my friends. Let us vibe to the rhythms that connect us, the ones that help us trascend the toxic rage of identity politics and oversimplified, overgeneralized, us-them mentality. Let us hold our hearts open for shared humanity to resonate and amplify.

Holding Connection

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“It’s a beautiful day in Chicago.
“Gratitude stands in front today, sadness pressed right up behind. They hold each other like twin toddlers: Intimate. Knowing. *Connected*.
“Holding.”

If you follow me on Instagram, you know I post photos of a mug by my laptop every weekend. Normally this gives the page a semi-coherent aesthetic of mug shots alternating with blog posts, with occasional other stuff sprinkled in. This month I’m inserting a mug picture when I think of it, to break up the daily blog tiles. The caption above emerged spontaneously today. *happy sigh*

Had a leisurely morning before and after dropping Daughter off at school. Got some work done, then made it to Ethos for the start of a new training block (barbell front foot elevated split squats and pull ups, oh yeah!). Did my first class with Coach Arianna—ROCK STAR. Caught up a little with lovely friend James, then had a wonderful lunch with dear Jacob. Chatted with the beautiful Kasey, picked up a little jar smile for myself on the way out, and felt a good little tingle. I generally do not cry easily, but tears verged more than once on the drive home. Gratitude in front, sadness right behind. I write ad nauseum about the community at Ethos–I promise they do not pay me. It’s just a unique community where relationship is a core value. It is their ethos, expressed right there in their tagline: TRAIN. RECOVER. CONNECT. And let me tell you, they (we) walk the talk. I drive up to 45 minutes each way, three times a week, to commune with these amazingly generous and kind people who hold me in my strengths, my vulnerabilities, my weirdness–in my wholeness.

Today my friends held me in my sadness. They held my heart close and tight. They were so present. I am not happy about a second Trump administration, not at all. But I could accept it on Wednesday. I am confident in our institutions at the moment and I see the slow groundswell of collaborative efforts across the aisle in credible party leaders to uphold them. I see popular legislative efforts across the country to protect the rights I care about. Policy will always be a give and take, one and two steps forward and back ad infinitum. The sadness set in only after seeing repeated expressions of vehement relationship rupture and abandonment, of harsh judgment with complete lack of curiosity and empathy. I see it on both sides (nobody is asking relationally meaningful questions), and more from the left. I understand and empathize with the intense emotions–the shock and disappointment, the outrage, even the hopelessness. I share some of them. But above all, it’s the active, volitional relational desertion, collective or individual, that distresses me most.

In the afternoon I spoke to Jon, my high school classmate, a conservative. We last met at our ten year reunion, 23 years ago. We have stayed connected on Facebook, mainly to discuss our divergent political views. It has always been respectful and loving. He messaged me on Wednesday to ask how I was. He is the friend I wrote about who hugged his tearful colleague after Trump won in 2016. We spoke for an hour and agreed on many more things than we disagreed on–mostly relational, behavioral, and pragmatic things. We held space for the really complex issues. We agreed strongly and wholeheartedly that in the most emotionally charged, most intense disagreements of identity and personal beliefs, that is when and where we must exercise the most attunement, kindness, empathy, and humility–basically the opposite of what we actually do.

So grateful. So sad.

I am okay. I am not surprised or disillusioned, necessarily. I am not hopeless. We are human, and this is how we do under severe stress. Relationship ruptures can be repaired. It is a choice. That does not mean it is easy, and wounds leave scars, some large and disfiguring.

“You got hurt,” Dear Friend said to me so lovingly once, after I attempted to connect to someone and missed. Yes, I got hurt. That can happen when we risk connection. It was worth it. My friends showed me today that every time I have taken this risk, the reward has consistently far outweighed any cost or pain. There is so much pain right now, my friends–it rolls over us like the darkest thundercloud. And it will pass. Throwing away our relationships now will not make it pass any faster, nor make the light any brighter afterward–quite the opposite, I’m convinced.

I Hold Connection for Us, my friends. I hold it like our lives depend on it.
Because they do.