The Beauty of Repeating Patterns

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Last week I wrote about our stories and how they perpetuate despite their dysfunction.  Tonight I consider patterns and how they also resist change—for better and for worse.

We had a wedding in the family recently.  Aunts, uncles, and cousins flew in from all over the country to attend and celebrate.  I have graduated to the parents’ generation at most weddings now; it feels strange and natural at the same time.  ‘Kids’ these days do things very differently in some ways (everything was online—no paper!), and exactly the same in others (there was a beautiful dress, an aisle, rings, kissing, and I saw her wear something blue).  Sitting with my fellow zhang bei (elder generation), I recalled when each of us got married, all on the order of 15-20+ years ago.  Like the happy couple, we were all young, most of us were thinner, and we had darker hair.  Our Chineseness and its influence on nuptial activities felt a little heavier than for the next generation, and yet that cultural heritage still shines through today—that makes me proud.

How will the new couple choreograph their marriage dance?  When the rest of us started out, could we have predicted our tangoes to look and feel how they do today?  Part of me says yes, absolutely—just look at how our parents boogied—we humans learn by mimicking.  Just imagine your spouse’s father dancing with your own mother, or some other familial counterpart pairing, and you probably see something resembling your own relationship.  Psychology research tells us that our stories and patterns of relating form very early in life, and persist for decades.  We carry the lessons, traditions, and burdens of our families of origin in our neurons and even our DNA—we cannot escape them.

Not that we need to or should.  Each of us is the product of all the atomic, molecular, cellular, interpersonal, and interstellar interfaces that created and continue to recreate us, in an infinite and complex web of moments and contexts.  It’s really quite beautiful, when I stop to think about it.  We can hear echoes of our ancestors in our children.  We pass on core values and family traditions with tribal pride, maintain bonds that hold us up through adversity, and anchor to relationships of identity and belonging.   We can also choose to forge new paths for discovery and growth, diverging from generations of redundant dysfunction and suffering.  Through iterative tribal mergers our children inherit all that came before them—the good and the bad—and the universe both differentiates and unifies with each succeeding generation, with every single individual.

Each dandelion seed is a miniature version of the whole flower itself.  Each human family is a subset of the family of humanity.  We are all uniquely ourselves, and we also belong wholly to one another.

Nothing stays the same for long.  And some things never change.

It’s just a thing of beauty, no?

Wide Open Spaces

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What to write on vacation?  Depends on the schedule, no?  Happily, on my Rocky Mountain escape this week, time lolls wide open.  How rare and precious to have these days with no commitments, no agenda, and a true feeling of detachment!  Wow.  How refreshing, nourishing, relaxing, and challenging.  No patients to see, meetings to attend, immediate work crises to solve.  I feel at once liberated and anxious—as if I enjoy the bright Colorado sun now, but there must be some black cloud looming over the ridge to the west.  *sigh*

The LOH retreat positively saturated me last weekend—mind, body, and soul.  I had Hippie Zealot Conference High, for sure.  And as so often happens, synthesizing learnings and insights proved challenging off the mountain and in real life, especially with only four intense days of re-entry before leaving again for spring break.  But now I have time and space—physical and mental—to process, hallelujah!

It never ceases to amaze me, the cosmic collision of ideas and insights that simultaneously shape my personal and professional development.  It’s like I feel the universe’s Michelangelo, Van Gogh, and Einstein hands sculpting and unifying my consciousness at all levels—it’s awesome!!

Weeks prior to LOH, my own coach Christine and my coach friend Donna each independently introduced me to the work of Jennifer Garvey Berger, expert in adult development and leadership coaching.  She incorporates ideas of complexity and systems, central tenets of LOH training, in her philosophy.  I started listening to her book, Changing on the Job, the week before LOH started.  My friends came to Berger’s work separately (they don’t know each other, which I intend to remedy soon), and the temporal overlap of their new learning with my own makes my heart leap—my friendships are, without question, divinely inspired.  The central learning for me so far is recognition of my current and aspirational states of development as a person in all aspects of life.  I look forward to acquiring and practicing more skills for growth—it is a lifelong process!

Two weeks ago, while searching links for my Thank You post to Ben Zander, I came across Rosamund Stone Zander’s book, Pathways to Possibility, the follow up to their co-authored book, The Art of Possibility, still my favorite book of all time.  I started PtP days before LOH; the synergism of ideas almost overwhelmed me.  I finished it last week and holy cow, this is advanced practice personal development.  The stories we tell, the ones that rule our relationships and lives, can be so deeply entrenched that even when we recognize their dysfunction, revising them feels almost impossible.  In my personal life, I recognize intellectually that I hold onto some seriously destructive stories—ones that cause chronic and palpable suffering not just for me but those closest to me.  I lose circulation in my figurative hands, my emotional grip on these stories is so tight, and I still refuse to let go of them.  It is positively frustrating and fascinating.  I know this stubborn intransigence has untoward effects on my leadership capacity and style at work, however indirectly, because I firmly believe that ‘how we do anything is how we do everything.’  It just kills me—like a padlocked steel door in the long hallway of self-awareness, behind which live insight and psychological freedom—I know I have the key somewhere, I just can’t find it yet.  I will return repeatedly to integrate the practices in this book, like I do to AoP.  And, I get better every year at holding myself with a little more compassion.  We’re all here doing our best; I am no exception.  Nobody is better supported in this work of self-discovery than I.  So I journey on mostly joyfully, surrounded by fellow wayfinders, working on ourselves for the benefit of us all.  Onward!

Spring break writing

I started this post with at least two other ideas to write about, but I’ll hold off.  I have four more days here in the mountains.  More time and space to think on, manipulate, and start to apprehend all of these ideas and learnings of late.  My thank you cards, washi tape, journal, and laptop are spread out over the coffee table.  My favorite movies play on DVD and cable as pleasant and entertaining background ambiance.  What a gift and a blessing are time and space.  May I savor these days with deep and sustaining gratitude.

This Is My Hogwarts

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My friends, I belong.  This weekend marked the beginning of a ten month training program in communication, leadership, connection, and creativity.  9 of us made it to Colorado after the bomb cyclone (Patrick, we missed you—can’t wait to meet you in May!) to launch Cohort 11 of Leading Organizations to Health (LOH).  Our teachers, Tony Suchman and Diane Rawlins, led us through three days of introspection, skills acquisition and practice, and formation in community.  It all happened at the Sylvan Dale Guest Ranch in Loveland, surrounded by mountains, river, wildlife, and a rich history of family and hospitality.

We are training in relationship-centered care and administration, helping one another embody our best relationship tendencies, so we may help our organizations function at higher levels of connection and effectiveness.  It’s too exciting!

I walked into the lodge at Sylvan Dale, saw the vaulted ceiling with the icicle lights, and immediately thought of Hogwarts.  I came to this place, called by something to the Why of my soul, to be with others like me.  We are here to train, to hone our skills for good.  Within the first session I realized I can totally be myself in this crowd.  Here, I’m no longer a lone voice focused on relationships ahead of everything else, no longer the only one who cannot help seeing how the nature of our relationships permeates every interaction, every decision—and how we recreate them in every moment.  No more self-editing and explaining, tip-toeing around what matters most to me.  I can fully inhabit my relationship convictions here, in this space and among these new friends.  I feel an ease of purpose and values in this group that I come to, like a deep well, to fill my bucket and irrigate my garden of personal and professional growth.  Here, I am not a black sheep.

I now have 9 new people-nodes to connect and integrate into my existing relationship webs—a new and emerging system.  We share stories with common themes, new insights, and mutual support.  These ten months we will form and evolve as individuals as well as a community.  It’s a type of love, really…  At least that’s how it feels to me.  Hooray!