Tag Archives: Tara Brach

Practicing the Art of Possibility Since 2009

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It’s been 15 years since I attended the second ever Harvard Coaching Conference, where I met Ben Zander and The Art of Possibility changed my life. I reference the book’s concepts and practices regularly on this blog, and have given four copies to friends in the last five months–a spate that catches my attention. With the most recent gift, I was moved to listen again, prepared for yet a deeper, more incisive experience, even after having read and listened countless times already. HA!–this just occurs to me–It may be the very practices from the book that underlie this latest re-exploration. Openness, humility, honesty, creativity, authenticity, and connection–I valued these highly even before 2009, and AofP has reinforced them all repeatedly.

Describing the book to a new friend recently, I focused on the authors’ distinction between our Calculating Self, the one engaged in social norms of measurement, competition, and conventional success, and our Central Self, the honest, inner, relational soul that understands and seeks connection and collaboration that brings deep meaning, joy, and peace. I remember flipping through my print copy sometime last year and thinking wow, I have really internalized these teachings! I pull on the catch phrases often–Give the A, Be a Contribution, Rule #6, The Way Things Are, Be the Board–and the practices they point to guide me daily through circumstances and interactions that would have perturbed me much more a decade ago than they do today. The more I thought about it and spoke to Friend, however, the more I wondered what new and more I’d get out of yet another listen–ready for advanced, deeper practice–because though the slope of the curve may have shallowed, I am definitely still learning; I have Possibility yet to harness!

I feel proud of the work I’ve done to lead with my Central Self. It started before the Harvard conference when I connected with Christine, my life coach, in 2005. At that time coaching was seen as froo-froo fringe activity, as evidenced by the groan and eye roll from my colleague when I mentioned it. So I continued silently after that, learning techniques of open, honest questioning, mind-body query, and honoring peoples’ stories, the unique meaning we each make out of any situation, regardless of how or whether it makes sense to anyone else. I have honed high self-awareness and -regulation of my own stories, appreciating both their partial validity and heavy biases, ready (almost) always to have them challenged, corrected, and nuanced. Showing up from my Central Self, recognizing and lovingly inviting forth others’ Central Selves, has yielded such color, texture, meaning, learning, and connection in my life, that it increasingly defies verbal description. Meeting Lessa Lamb at Readers Take Denver last weekend and feeling this instant resonance, I tried articulating it anyway, and it came out as, “Exponentially Synergistic Cosmic ROCKET FUEL,” which is pretty close!

Now halfway through The Art of Possibility again, the humbling has struck. I am indeed proficient at these skills in multiple domains. I have incorporated the principles seamlessly into patient action plans and public presentations for at least the past ten years, each year more organically and easily. Still, in my most complex and difficult relationships, I have far yet to go. Old narratives and deeply grooved relational patterns stemming from childhood–oh how they persist wih force! Thankfully, I also follow Tara Brach and Kristin Neff, and as my self-compassion grows, so too does my capacity for deeper honesty, acceptance, and advanced inner Possibility work. I vibrate at a high relational frequency, and The Art of Possibility has resonated deeply from the moment I heard the authors speak. The teachings amplify my innate signals of deep human connection, and help me show up increasingly All In, All Me, with courage and conviction, including to the work of the slaying and dissecting my own demons.

–*sigh*–

Part of me regrets not being further along on this self-development journey. I’m already 50 years old, worked with Christine since age 32, and others before her. Even with the turbo boost from The Zanders at age 36 and Simon Sinek, Brene Brown, Adam Grant, and others since, I still swirl at times in patterns of fixation, reactivity, and agitation. The episodes are definitely less frequent, intense, damaging, and prolonged, though, so that’s a win, and I feel my inner peace proficiency accelerating lately.

So, to the practices I return:

The Way Things Are: Be with it all, whatever it is, including how I feel about it. I am competent, maybe even expert, and not yet a master. Learn, practice, train, ad infinitum. Mastery may or may not come; the nature of the work is to persist. I can be at peace with this, with all of it, the way it is, while I work to make it all better.

Give the A: As I do for others, I can give myself grace and compassion for showing up every day to do my best. I see my potential and that of others. I help myself by getting help from others, so that I can help others, all of us together on the journey.

Being a Contribution: Every day, with any and every interaction, I can bring my best self, show up to lift up. It doesn’t have to be big or flashy. Presence, eye contact, listening, reflecting, connecting. People can feel well when they meet me. I can help, and lead by example in this way.

Telling the We Story: This one makes me shiver with Possibility. It’s about seeing us all, every single one of us, as inextricably connected–we all matter to one another and to everything in nature–a complex, adaptive system of systems, the butterfly effect in motion and action. When I remember the We story, rather than feeling overwhelmed, I feel calm, empowered, and purposeful, because just by being a better me, I make the world better.

I hope my friends get as much out of this book as I have, over the last 15 years and for many years to come. The wisdom and application are infinite, as we humans muddle and struggle through our own counterproductive behaviors and conventions. The practices in The Art of Possibility give me the validation, confidence, hope, and conviction to keep sharing, speaking, and loving, every chance I get, even (especially) when it’s hard.

Wishing us all a present, open, kind, and loving week. May we connect meaningfully with our fellow humans, and may that connection both anchor and uplift us all.

Feel Everything: The Hedonic Stoic

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Okay friends, time to get loose with some words!

The title of this post may not make any sense to you, and it makes all the sense in the world to me! It manifests my deep desire and commitment to embrace and exude healthy paradox, emerging in the form of fun, which I absolutely love. Suspend disbelief and take a dive with me, ya? Maybe you’ll have some fun too:

Stoic: “a person who can endure pain or hardship without showing their feelings or complaining.” — Oxford Languages

Hedonist: “a person who believes that the pursuit of pleasure is the most important thing in life; a ‘pleasure-seeker'” –also Oxford

I got a lot of ‘stoic’ messages growing up, some healthy and some not so much. I fell onto a sprinkler head while playing in the water one young summer, gouging a dime-sized chunk of flesh out of my knee, the kind of wound that would only heal by filling in scar tissue from the edges over a couple of weeks. As my nurse mom applied medicine, her demeanor was calm and clinical, and she told me to be still, be brave–勇敢 (yong gan). Looking back, there was no shaming or denial of my pain, just reassurance that everything would be okay, and I had it in me to endure. It was validating and encouraging. Years later, as I cried audibly in the theater during the most tragic movie I had seen to date, a male relative pinched my thigh–hard–to get me to stop. I understood that message clearly, and it was neither validating nor encouraging.

Feel it maybe, control it always, show it never. How many of us could identify this, or something similar, as an unspoken mantra in our families of origin? Or in our collective culture today? When someone is sad, or even happy, how (un)comfortable are we with their tears? Or our own? What are the acceptable expressions of emotion? Smiling, laughing, hugging, drinking, yelling, honking, gesturing, throwing, slamming, dismissing, deflecting, turning away–including with/at/from ourselves? What does this cost us in psychic energy, physical health, and most importantly, human(e) connection with self and others? And how is it both useful and harmful?

Contrary to what some may think, stoicism is not about repressing, denying, or expelling emotions. It’s more about a commited self-awareness and self-regulation practice, so as to not let intense emotions hijack us into poor decisions and ruined relationships. It’s about balancing feelings with reason, clearing the path for (inter)acting according to our highest goals and core values. It makes sense, then, that a dedicated practitioner may end up with what we colloquially call the ‘stoic’ demeanor–straight posture, neutral expression, generally undemonstrative carriage. And, not necessarily. I think it’s possible–preferable, actually–for a true stoic to live an expressive life; just not excessively or gratuitously so. And even if not outwardly obvious, an ardent stoic can (and does, in my opinion) still experience, even revel in their deep, powerful, and moving emotions, while still keeping a leash on it all. For many, this may be easier said than done; that is why the sister practice of mindfulness comes in so handy, particularly skills that help us manage difficult emotions. Stoicism, then, is a practice of inner peace.

Life is so full of sensations–movement, sound, temperature, texture, taste (omg all the flavors!!), light, color, mass, frangance–I feel giddy just seeking the words! And all of this in addition to the infinite complexities of emotion, relationship, and community, holy cow! We are here for such a short time, how sad would it be to live an entire life without full and vibrant awareness, attention, and appreciation for all there is to possibly sense and experience? This is why I love the idea of ‘healthy hedonism’–an all-in, sensually fulfilling relationship with pleasure, yes, but really I think it’s about joy–the quintessential manifestation of joie de vivre. Hedonism is not the same as debauchery. I think of it as liberated and exuberant engagement with all that our sensory world has to offer, within healthy boundaries–actually similar to stoicism in its grounded mindfulness of and devotion to a Why–living a full and fulfilling, attuned and connected, self-actualized and purposeful life.

Feel it all, manage it well, effuse it appropriately: A new personal mantra in progress, maybe. Allow the feelings, apply good reason, express for connection. Practice withstanding severe discomfort. Equip myself to plumb my emotional depths with confidence. Be with it, surrender–to pain, joy, love, loss, uncertainty, confusion, awe, outrage, fantasy, all of it–and then self-regulate: Do the work, learn the lessons, and apply in relationship, the ultimate human expression. As I write this, it’s so clear that besides mindfulness, self-compassion is another key skill for a hedonic stoic to practice.

To face all feelings without fearing them, to embrace a full spectrum of sensation and aliveness, and to emanate unfettered joy, all while solidly grounded in an ethos of love and contribution: This is the essential spirt of the hedonic stoic.

Sign me up.