Trust and Adjust

Friends, I am a master procrastinator! What about you?

Since at least high school, my writing is almost always done at the last minute. Term papers, college and med school application essays, blog posts, it’s all the same. There’s usually a sense of thrill and anticipation, a fun challenge, as well as some self-judgment for having to ‘cram.’ And while the product was usually pretty good, I often wondered how much better it could be if I gave myself more time to edit and revise. So for NaBloPoMo 2022 I completed posts 2-3 days in advance, scheduling them to ‘drop’. I edited most pieces in the interim, but not significantly–mostly choosing a different word or tightening a sentence here or there. That was validating.

This works fine when the deadlines are soft–meaning I’m accountable only to myself, and only for fun. And I have never had to ask for an extension in class or missed an important application deadline, so I’m probably still fine, right? I recently attended a writing workshop where I thought I had to present an entire book proposal for critique, and I managed to sit Butt In Chair in enough time to complete a first draft without pulling any all-nighters (Iโ€™ve only ever stayed up all night to finish a Percy Jackson book in adulthood). Writing Buddy was impressed, commenting, “When you get your bottom in the seat, you get sh*t done!” It did help that I was in the mountains, with maybe 10% of the usual distractions.

But if a miracle happens and I actually get a chance to publish a whole book, that will be next level–how do I know my baseline method will be good enough? Will these 8 years of blogging have been good practice? For the most part I have kept up with weekly posts, plus the 30 day challenge every November. I worry that I will either run out of ideas, or I’ll fail to write them coherently enough. But I worry most that I will not have the discipline to finish what I say I want to start. What evidence have I for this fear?

Most of my childhood friends started piano lessons early in life. I hesitated–all that practice… MaBa warned me what kind of investment it would be for them, and after considering for two years I finally committed. At that time there were two music stores at Southglenn mall, and we went back and forth between them one weekend, listening to the Yamaha upright at one and the Kawai upright at the other. It was clear to me from the start that the Kawai was the superior instrument; I advocated patiently and firmly, and won my case. I played with enthusiasm well into high school–not expertly, but enough to really grow some musical neural networks that enrich my life. It’s a form of stress relief, then and now. Today I own a Kawai baby grand, and Son and Daughter both play with similar satisfaction.

Over my life I have committed to and sustained practice in classical Chinese dance and painting, public speaking, volleyball, medical training, practice, and leadership, washi tape art, physical fitness, and now sourdough baking. And blogging… with the idea of writing a book… eventually. When I started HTC in 2015 I never imagined it would last 8+ years. I thought I had a book in me then, but apparently not yet. “You don’t do anything half-ass,” Friend observed to me recently. Well, not anything I care about, anyway. And here I still am, 532 blog posts later and no book. Procrastinate much? I’m much closer now than ever, though, like litera(ri)lly on the threshold. It’s just taken this long, for all the reasons, and it’s okay. I’m having fun, practicing, processing, progressing, connecting, …winding up.

Friend texted me this week to inquire about and encourage my book writing; it was so loving and I felt buoyed. My reply:

Thank you so much my dear friend!! ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿ’—๐ŸŒŸ
Writing itself is going well!! ๐Ÿ’ƒ๐Ÿป๐ŸŽ‰๐Ÿฅณ โ€ฆthough none of it is actually proposal work, per se ๐Ÿคช I did go really BOOBS OUT on the blog over the weekendโ€”gearing up to pour into the bookโ€”kinda like rubbing stocking feet on carpet in order to shock the next thing I touch! ๐Ÿ˜„ So Iโ€™m feeling overall good, trying to balance the organic unfolding with the intentional effort, you know?
THANK YOU THANK YOU so much for your encouragement, it means the world to me!! ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ๐Ÿฅฐ๐Ÿ’—๐ŸŒŸ๐Ÿ”ฅ๐Ÿ’ช๐Ÿผ

Allow the unfolding with joyous intent. Trust my reliable nature. Adjust my method(s) as needed. Commit to having fun. All in, all me. BOOBS OUT. And deep bows to my amazing Tribe. I get to choose whatever meaning I want out of any and all of it. How awesome!

I’ got this.

Magnetize Thyself

โ€œYour vibe attracts your tribe.โ€

What is my vibe, I wonder? How do others experience me? What moves us each to approach one another?

It’s been six months since I wrote about feeling liberated to be more authentically and fully expressive of my thoughts and observations. I feel freed to take up more space, be all me, all in, whatever I’m doing. As a result, my encounters and interactions with many people, patients especially, are that much deeper and more meaningful. In this time, I also seem to have attracted and strengthened connections with a number of like-minded and like-hearted folks. It feels joyfully cosmic.

I met the team at Ethos Training Systems three years ago, and stayed on their periphery. I officially joined the community this April, moved by some immutable force, and made fast friends with the coaches. I also feel right at home among my gym classmates. I rejoined Instagram a few weeks ago in order to see the workout videos, and found Coach Jacob’s page. To see posts of a thoughtful, generous, humble, and loving young man, or if you just want some uplift one day, hop on over and read his reflections, watch his videos. I learn so much from Jacob, in more domains than fitness. It reinforces for me the value of making friends with people much younger than myself. The generation ‘gap’ invites attention and exploration, an ebullient mutual bridging. I am convinced we each have something important to offer the other.

Last month I reconnected with Steve, one of my favorite people in high school. Looking back, he was one of the first people with whom I could do joyfully deep philosophical banter, and also talk science. He went to college on a physics scholarship, and now flourishes as a tenured philosophy and religion professor. We met for lunch after over 30 years, and it was as if no time had passed. We humans are who we are from a very young age, and we also continually change and evolve throughout our lives. It’s such a lovely paradox, and I’m finding folks left and right who embrace it like I do–the connections reminding me of formative atomic collisions.

Colleague introduced me to Hilary, an energetic and effusive somatic psychotherapist. It took us a while to connect in person, yet we both persisted in the effort. I felt pulled–called to gather with her. We both feel first hand as well as vicariously, the immense pressure and burnout borne by our fellow healthcare workers. We understand intuitively that COVID was just an oceanic tremor; the myriad recurring tsunami waves of consequences are yet to hit, and we brace for it, personally and professionally. Meanwhile, we both ascribe to Isaac Asimov’s words: “I continue to try and I continue, indefatiguably, to reach out. There’s no way I can single-handedly save the world or, perhaps, even make a perceptible difference–but how ashamed I would be to let a day pass without making one more effort. …I have to make my life worthwhile to myself, if to no one else and writing these essays is one of the chief ways I can accomplish this task.” Like me, Hilary sees and feels her potential in multiple domains at once, gets excited about them all, and must self-regulate. She chooses to embark now on a writing journey. I think I was placed on her path to walk in solidarity with her, while we share, support, and learn from each other. We agree to buy Colleague a drink for bringing us together, right here and right now, just when we both needed.

“People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it,” Simon Sinek says. It’s about resonance. My Why grows ever clearer, and I manifest it with increasing power and momentum (and hopefully without too much ego). I am definitely attracting my tribe, finding people with whom my Why vibrates strongly. I compare myself to a magnet more often every month–one with rising energy. The tribe grows, maybe approaching critical mass for effecting positive change through relational leadership. But even if not, the coalescence feels profoundly meaningful.

Useful Repulsion

If I am a magnet, then there are elements (people) I will repel, and/or will repel me. I can name, with some regret, friends who have exited my life. Sometimes my bids for initial connection with people I admire get rejected, which doesn’t feel good. Why don’t they like me? Others approach me, and I feel neither spark nor interest, so I politely keep my distance, eventually falling out of orbit. It’s limbic, visceral, irrational, and organic. I have learned to take it all in stride. Not all friendships, relationships, and connections are meant to be, or to last forever. Neither, though, are separations. You just never know. So I resolve to stay open to shifts in whatever polarities are at play, for repulsion now to become attraction later, and vice versa. Anything is possibile.

I have a few longstanding relationships, however, which I will not exit and that yet feel consistently repulsive in one way or another–dissonant, counter, antithetical. How do I reconcile this? What is the cosmic purpose here? I have decided to see it as a form and source of movement, as with Maglev trains or levitating globes. My counterparts and I, like these magnetic objects, are held in sustained proximity by both attractive and repulsive forces of the relationships themselves, based on the positions and polar orientations of our respective magnets. As a result, I am impelled forward, I like to think in personal growth. Or I’m held in place, suspended in stability within which I may spin and bounce–there is security here, even if movement is restricted in some dimensions. Anyway, it’s a fun and encouraging way to think of myself–as a magnet that naturally both atrracts and repels, creating both potential and kinetic energy.

As I continue to step into and stand straight and strong in my core values and life purpose, I understand and accept that my relationships will self-organize accordingly. As I attract some, I will necessarily repel others. Sometimes the latter is painful. Still, the rewards of magnetizing myself this way far outweigh the costs.

Time, Books, Bread, and Love

What is/are your love language/s?

According to Gary Chapman’s popular book The Five Love Languages, mine are, in order: quality time, words of affirmation, receiving gifts, physical touch, and acts of service. Since learning the framework, I have observed for Husband’s and Kids’ languages, and become more fluent in a few of their respective dialects. Some are easier to pick up than others! It’s humbling to think how friends and family may feel rejected by me when I respond sideways to their bids for love, because I don’t understand their intent. “Rats!” as friend Eileen would say. I can do better!

On the other hand, how wonderful when I can converse in love speech with someone in appreciation and joy? Words are definitely my currency–quality time for me means being together talking, and not just about pop culture and current events. I consider any thoughtful or personal verbal expression a gift, and especially anything via snail mail. I get positively giddy when I open the mailbox and see colored envelopes, interesting stamps, and omg stickers–it all just makes my heart sing.

Friend and fellow writer Nicole recently recommended the book Write For Your Life by Anna Quindlen. It’s a fast, easy, and heartwarming read by the veteran journalist and novelist. It validates my insatiable need to write–for myself and for sharing–and inspires me to do it with ever more abandon and joy. Quindlen reflects on the timeless relevance of Anne Frank’s diary, and our collective delight in finding old letters between lovers from the past. She wishes her parents left more words on paper, in their own hand, now that she can no longer connect with them in a tangible, tactile way. Even if you’ve never thought writing could stimulate, soothe, inspire, or connect you, this short work may convince you otherwise. Spending quality time with yourself and your thoughts, processing through pen on paper, may yield ideas, insights, and epiphanies that come no other way; and those who read them subsequently may benefit and connect to you in ways you cannot yet not imagine. So inspired was I after reading, that I bought multiple copies of WFYL and gifted them to friends. With each volume I selected a specific journal to go along. Pleather- and cloth-bound, blank, lined books invite original composition with artfully embossed covers: windblown trees; “Be the Change”; “ZEN AS F*CK”.

For my friend who took on a big new hairy leadership role, I included 6 additional works: The Art of Possibility, Benjamin and Rozamund Stone Zander; Switch, Chip and Dan Heath; Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert; Rising Strong, Brene Brown; Drive, Daniel Pink; and The Infinite Game, Simon Sinek. To the one who stands together with his wife at their respective professional crossroads, I accompanied Quindlen with John O’Donohue’s wisdom in To Bless the Space Between Us. His poems soothe, uplift, warm, and reassure, promoting reflection and also whispering, coaxing our own wisdom to emerge from within. Sharing others’ words, wiser and more eloquent than my own, is another way I love my friends.

When I can get the timing right, of course I also include some sourdough in the gift bag. Sven continues to thrive, leavening my loaves reliably for a over a year now. His heirloom flour descendant, whose products my gluten-intolerant friends can eat without consequence, has finally also developed that fruity aroma that I recognize as my starter. There is something special about giving and receiving gifts we make (or write) by hand, with our time, talent, and treasure. It’s just another level of love, expressed concretely and tangibly.

Nobody questions the value of sharing and expressing love between friends and family.

But what about between colleagues? Leaders and those they lead? Systems and their contingent members? What does it take to learn and attempt to speak anybody’s ‘love’ language? When we do personality tests at the office and find out who’s an introvert or extravert, who thinks versus feels their way to a decision, can we as leaders and coworkers make the effort to communicate–to relate–on another’s terms in addition to our own? I fail at this day after day; rats! I can do better!

In the end it’s about how we each feel seen, heard, understood, accepted and loved–why limit this essential and life-sustaining human reciprocity to ‘loved ones’? Better yet, why not include all with whom we are in any relationship among those we consider ‘loved‘? It may require quite a brave and committed redefinition of and reorientation to ‘love’, no? But how might this inspired shift in perspective, even by only a fraction of one degree, profoundly alter the course of business, healthcare, education, government–everything?