Freedom of Expression

Re-Awakening

2006-06-04T03:26:00.000-07:00

How does change affect us? How do we change ourselves? How do we change the world?

Time, time and again time. It changes us, and because we've changed, the world changes.

I know, it sounds naive, especially in a world where politicians and corporations seem to control what "really" matters. Or maybe your experience of change is that it's rarely for the better. It's an old story.

But it's not the only story. For the past six months, I've been transitioning into new work, my healing and coaching practice, a new place to live, and a new attitude about living. As my old stories fade, morphing into new forms, I've discovered the world changes with them.

Why is that? Because I expect different things in the world. And I see those things, where they were invisible before.

Our personal stories give us certain perceptions of the world. These perceptions shape our experiences, and our experiences shape our expectations.

The biggest shift in my expectations, the shift that has changed the world for me, is the awareness of gentleness. Sure, there are fierce and difficult challenges, and I need to be able to protect myself. But not all the time. In the midst of harshness and change (which is difficult because it challenges all our beliefs and habits!) there is a gentleness and stillness that holds me to the right path.

Despite everything, no matter how strange and in-transition I've felt, that gentleness rises into the day to surprise and bless me. It happens in unexpected ways, grounding me in the world with a sense of love and joy.

One day, on my recent trip to China, I felt sick, homesick and sinus-sick. Even a walk through my favorite park felt pedestrian, until I came upon a group of women dancing inside a circle of harmonica-players. They swayed and curved with the music, Chinese music, traditional and blaring out of the portable speakers clipped to the harmonica-players' waists. And then suddenly, they launch into "Jingle Bells." How can I feel sorry for myself, with such a gift!?

Every day, miracles small and large. How do we change the world? One miracle at a time.

Horror of Horrors: Halloween Myths

2005-11-01T14:55:00.000-08:00

The Pagan New Year has passed, but that doesn't mean that we're done with the horror of bad storytelling that plagues us every year.

I just got cable, and I have to ask: What's with all those ghost stories and horror movies where anything good is unredeemable, vulnerable, and generally painfully stupid? OK, we've all laughed at the lithe young women who take off their clothes (ostensibly to wash them) and then get killed. I mean, it's a movie cliche. But I'm talking about the deeper cliche: that the supernatural has no positive side whatsoever.

The only angels that sell tickets are angels who battle to the death with demons. And the uglier the demons the better.

I wonder what it is? Our obsession with mortality and fear of death, making us unable to see the supernatural as anything but horrific? Our addictive need for adrenaline kicks? Our secret fear that if we open the door of our psychic abilities, it will be the end of everything we know -- and we translate that anxiety into a projected demon on the other side?

I don't know. All I can say is: phooey! Silly Gory Stories. We love them. And they're killing our ability to imagine anything -- except the safest and most banal experiences of the everyday world -- as natural.

In Touch/Out of Touch

2005-10-08T13:00:00.000-07:00

Cell phones and email have made us all accessible, even when we're thousands of miles apart. Cars and planes shoot us towards each other, past each other, into each other. We're instantly connectible, instantly "there" for each other.

But lately, I'm thinking about my biggest hero, Gertrude Stein, and that what she said about her hometown of Oakland, CA is true about everywhere now: "There is no there there."

I mean, where are we really, when we beep into each other's phone line or wireless shangrila hoosywhatsit? And if you can't reach me through these magical places, am I anywhere at all?

The paradox is absolute. There may be no there here, but if I'm not in this e-space, then I'm nowhere at all. Or so it seems from a business and friendship standpoint.

Lately, I've wanted to jump off the electronic wagon and move into the physical world again. The rain after a long drought, the smell of the earth, and the taste of fresh cooked organic eggs. I'm tired of not being able to touch across the impulse, the line, the connection.

So if you call me, you'd better have something worthwhile to say, or have a new restaurant you want me to try with you -- face to face. Let's have a cup of tea. You can wash the dishes; I'll bake a pie or something.

It'll be nice to be in the same space for a change.

The Doldrums: Unpacking Day

2005-10-07T09:06:00.000-07:00

Somehow I'm really good at rising to the adrenaline high of the crisis, but when the crisis passes, I'm too tired to celebrate my successes.

Take now, for instance. I had to move -- immediately -- and so I did. I even found a better house, and crammed my boxes into in in record time. Now, with my first day of leisure, I just want to sleep.

It's that energy thing. We have it, and then we're sapped of it. Crisis energy -- it wears me down, it saves my life.

So what's to do? My usual prescription, for myself and my clients, is a good self-indulgent bath and a long nap. Because it's only natural for the body and spirit to be depleted after a hard push in the survival direction.

And then, once I've recovered, it's time to assess. After all, is this exhaustion really necessary?

My own experience is that I have fewer post-crisis burnout days than I used to, because I can more and more take my own advice (see the last column) and lighten up. And also, I've learned to rest along the way when I'm dealing with a hard transition.

But when I forget to breathe, or juggle several crises at once -- that's the kicker for me.

Today is a bath - bed - pizza day for me. And then tomorrow, a return to my normal unboxing routine.

What's your RX for post-adrenaline burnout? And how do you think we can prevent it in the first place?

Planning Your Life? Lighten Up!

2005-10-05T08:15:00.000-07:00

It always seems that whenever I make grand plans, they suddenly transform in painful, impossible and wonderful ways! It's as if there's a witty, charming, utterly disruptive force in the universe that delights in teaching me, over and over again, that my imagination is too small to make grand plans.

The hardest lesson I've had to learn, relearn, and relearn again, is that my perspective about these transformations seems to determine their disruption. If I can lighten up, and appreciate the small, unanticipated gifts that come with my unplanned life, things usually move fairly quickly into an adventure, or at least something positive.

It's a state somewhere between surrender and embrace -- a shift a healthy child seems to do easily, when faced by a surprise. Instead of saying, "That wasn't my plan!" I am learning to say, "I wonder what this is?" Discovery trumps disappointment.

For example: I lived in a cute little log home by the river, and I was convinced I was destined to buy it. I was so convinced that everyone I met thought I had already bought it! It was almost comical when it turned out that there were at least $40,000 worth of repairs needed. (The things you learn when you live somewhere!) Then the well went dry, and after months of off and on water and weeks of no water at all, it became clear that I had to move. I felt the weight of that story I'd made up as a chain binding me to the house, a perception that had lost any connection to practical reality, especially in the face of a landlord who could somehow make no progress towards restoring a liveable situation.

I was angry and sad, and felt betrayed. But when I looked around, and found a wonderful new house, with more room and more light, I began to realize how that chain was entirely of my own making -- and when I let it dissolve, I began to discover the benefits of moving. I could separate the people from the problem, and let the log home go, with my blessing. And now I'm discovering a whole new perspective, after working hard to lug my baggage and boxes across town.

What am I planning now? Nothing much -- and a great deal. And all of it with a wry and hopeful sense that the universe has more surprises in store for me....

There is This Hole -- Do I Have To Fall In?

2005-09-15T08:33:00.000-07:00

OK, most of us have heard this paraphrased fable from the recovery movement: I'm walking down the street, and there is a hole, and I don't see it, and fall into it. It takes a long time to get out. I'm walking down the street, and I see a hole, and I fall into it. It's my fault. It takes a little time to get out. I'm walking down the street, and I see a hole. I take another street.

So, seen any holes lately? Have you fallen in? Did you have to? Hell, no!

It's so easy to see our friends, family, and colleagues step repeatedly into the holes that keep them stuck in hard habits and bad situations. We warn them, watch them fall, help them out if we can, and then they do it all again.

But what about our own stumblings? If only there were an OnStar advice board for those emotional and spiritual holes we fall into with disturbing regularity. Can't you just hear that considerate, buxom female voice cooing, right as you're about to sign that contract, hand over that credit card, or agree to yet another abusive demand: "There is a big, deep hole you're about to fall into. Although it's your choice, I'd recommend that you consider preserving the last bits of sanity left to you, and step away. Step away from the hole. Thank you, and have a good day." I'm sure she'd look a lot like that chicken (isn't that why sex chatters quake at the thought of a video phone?), but her voice would come from the angels.

Too bad nanotechnology can't support OnStar for Life Choices yet. I guess that's what coaches, therapists, best friends, and bruises are for.

Moving On: Break the Ties that Bind!

2005-09-14T08:29:00.000-07:00

I returned from a long, transformational, tiring and exhilarating trip to China recently to discover that my greatest fear had come true: I had to move, immediately, out of the little house I'd hoped to buy eventually. The well had finally gone dry, and repairs would take months at best.

There were two snags to my moving on. The first was the usual reluctance to embark on house-searching and box lugging, a resistance that isn't too hard to overcome when you find a nice place to live, and experience a water-free life for a few days.

But the biggest obstacle was the story I made up about "my" house. When I moved in, I brought all my adult and childhood hopes for a nest. The cabin reminded me of my favorite house in the whole world, my grandparent's cottage. And I had woven a complicated story about how I would live in it for a little while, fall in love with it (warts and all), and finally make it mine. It was a story that I held on to despite the leaking roof, the flooding basement, the shipworms sending little piles of sawdust down from the logs, and of course, the well problem. My fantasy was strong enough to blur all of these challenges, and keep me attached to a dream that served me less and less as the months went by.

So when I returned from China, I felt the strings binding me to the house, illusory and real, and had to begin the tedious and liberating process of cutting those strings so I could see the real situation, and make a decision.

What about you? What strings and stories have you in their web? What's keeping you from moving on? Break those ties, and you'll see clearly the benefits of taking those awkward, liberatory steps towards something new!

Hey! I Know What I Know

2005-08-23T18:07:00.000-07:00

Knowing What We Know may be a particularly American trait. We pop into Knowing What We Know whenever we meet something entirely unfamiliar. Then, zing! We Know What We Know. You know?

It's like flapping away in a flock of fellow migrating birds, but sailing off a little to the northwest when the flock is headed due north. We encounter a strange bird behind a cloud, and we are, suddenly and without reason, exactly who we are. Smacked in the middle of surprise, we tumble back into Knowing What We Know, catch our balance, and flap back to the flock without delay.

It's not like we always Know these things, but in an instant, we can access them with such certainty that we might as well be radioactive with Knowing. We Know we're entitled to good service. Or we Know our story will be incredibly relevant to the person we're talking to. Or we Know what the problem is, and can immediately give the Right Advice.

How American. One of the youngest countries in the world, and more people who Know What We Know per capita than any other nation.

Yesterday, I found out during my visit to China that I Know:
-that price really is too high.
-every hotel room should have a bathtub
-signs in English are better than signs in any other language
-that woman should really be more careful about what she says
-and many other things worth repeating many many times, but which are too embarrassing to repeat in the afterKnow.

So what do you Know lately?

When Silence Is Golden

2005-08-21T20:26:00.000-07:00

Silence is so infrequently golden. Even if we're quiet when the old adage says we should be -- when we can preserve dignity, power and influence -- it's really only mostly tarnished silver, because it's cluttered with other sounds and meanings.

But sometimes it's worth gold and more:

-when a flock of birds rises up from the long grass, and you can hear every wing in the quiet

-when you have been speaking another language all day, and sink into a chair to recalibrate your tongue and brain

-when a fussy child falls sound asleep

-when a relative finally dies after a long, suffering illness

-when guns stop blasting out the cadence of war

Silence can be such a blessing. It's so rare, nowadays. Even in my quiet hotel room, I can hear the hum of an air conditioner, the slap of doors, the sweeg-clunk of a vacuum cleaner, and the fweep-fweep of a carlock being disabled. Yet silence can be deeply restorative, like sleep or clean air. It's a place just to be, and be clear.

Oh, Grow UP! (And What Exactly Does That Mean?)

2005-08-16T15:47:00.000-07:00

Those of us who take risks, make demands on the world, ask "too many" questions, or are simply deeply expressive, we hear it all the time. The call to "Grow UP!"

What does it mean, really?

Sometimes it means we've surprised them, challenged a core belief or value.

Sometimes it means they don't get it, and don't want to.

Sometimes it means we've crossed a line, spoken a truth or a thought or an emotion that the other person doesn't value, or doesn't want to deal with.

Sometimes it means we've refused to play with a common social rule because we'd rather make our own rules.

Sometimes it means we've asked a hard question about something that most people believe cannot be changed.

Sometimes it means we've insisted on being ourselves, and other people are worried about us. And sometimes they're just embarassed.

After all, what is it to play, to be "childish?" It means we are exploring, putting our energy into a focused, experimental, joyful way of living. That's a good thing, even if sometimes there are destabilizing consequences in our financial or social lives.

If we're embodying the less socialized forms of childishness, then we might want to listen to this response as a request for respect. Are we listening as well as talking? Are we paying attention to the other person's needs and values? Are we using them to create the stability we are not willing to work for ourselves? If this is the case, they're reflecting a real problem back to us, and we'd do well to pay attention.

So listen for the story behind the frustration, and act accordingly. And remember, even if you need to shift your behavior somewhat, it's never a good idea to sacrifice the joy of serious play, which is the strength and energy of children and creative adults.

Has anyone said "Grow UP!" to you recently? What did they mean? What did you do?

Rules are -- Not Rules!

2005-08-12T21:56:00.000-07:00

On my second trip to China, I've rediscovered the greatest secret of all, the secret that life keeps reminding me to remember -- question every assumption, look behind every rule.

On my first trip, I was told, (and read on the internet) that political discussions are impolite, and that it is best to wait until the Chinese bring things up, especially hot buttons like Taiwan. So I spent the whole trip waiting, and not talking politics, and thinking all the time about politics. Of course, everyone thought I was not interested, because I didn't bring politics into any conversation. So no one else brought it up, either, proving (inadvertantly) my false rule.

This trip, on the first evening, one of my students brought up Taiwan. A heated political discussion followed. It was fascinating -- and against every rule I'd heard about conversations in China.

So much for rules. Bring politics up, said my interpreter; it's not a problem! Maybe in the old days....

What a waste of banquets, my best opportunity to talk informally with my students while a translator is present. All because I followed the rules, based on assumptions planted who knows when by experiences that may or may not have been universal.

Such banality we generate, when we forget that the rules are not really rules -- they're experiences codified into assumptions and, after enough time, cultural habits. And they change. Daily.

You are the Winner!!!!

2005-08-07T07:15:00.000-07:00

For those of us who surf the net with some regularity, there is a constant barrage of announcements that we have won great things -- free gas for a year, free pet food for a year, a free laptop, free dinner at Applebees.... My favorite -- knock out George Bush and win a free prize!!!

I've clicked only once on one of those -- it wasn't George Bush, although I was tempted -- and of course, it was an info-scam that offered me a chance at a prize if I would participate in yadda yadda yadda.... I ignore them now.

But I am curious -- has anyone actually won anything from these offers? I'd love to hear how to actually take advantage of these prizes. If there are any prizes?

Who's got a scoop on this e-pop-up spam?

Exercise, Part III: Feeling the Burn

2005-08-03T13:33:00.000-07:00

Step One: Join the Gym
Step Two: Go for a little while, complain, drop out, then drop back in, and complain again.
Step Three: Ask a personal trainer for advice, and begin to "get it."

Yes, Sienna, like the crayon, my new personal trainer, has shown me the error of my ways. I have rolled on the ball, lifted weights, braved the treadmill, and faced the scale of death! And didn't die. In fact, it wasn't too bad.

The gym is still ugly. The gym folk are still zombies. The gym machinery is still set to face far too many TV screens. But I don't feel so alienated anymore. I have a tour guide.

Sienna. Just had a kid, looks like she's never had a kid. Sienna, who wants me to buy vitamin supplements that cost almost half my rent monthly. Sienna, who showed me how to use the machines so they don't hurt. My angel.

I just hope she'll let me sign up for some personal training sans supplements, so I can at least get the lay of the land before she sprints off to some wealthier, more committed denizen of the angular jungle of the World Gym.

It's time for my work out. 1234 ihatethisplace ihatethisplace and 1234 heythisfeelsgood heythisfeelsgood and 1234 ihatethisplace heythisfeelsgood....

This is how we change for the better. One rep at a time....

Exercise Part II: The Horror, the Physical Trainer

2005-08-01T10:40:00.000-07:00

Nothing if not persistent (read masochistic), I got back up on the exercise machine horse this morning and zombie walked my way to - well, to nowhere in particular. I tried the classic gambit -- reading while marching.

Well, it's just not bright enough to read in that gym. And the book is too big, and it obscures the dial I'm supposed to be paying attention to, and then of course, I pause to turn the page and forget to keep my feet moving and lose track of the timer and the exercise program defaults to nothing in particular.

Sigh. Tonight I meet with a personal trainer, to see if there's a way to step up to the plate and learn how to use the machines right and find out some hints about proper reading material format for the gym.

I am beginning to suspect that part of the problem is that I expect the gym to be a spa, and exercise to be either deeply pleasurable (spa-wise) or entertaining (like reading a book or hiking through the forest...). When it's really about -- about --- about -----

What? Discipline? Building stamina? Preventing --- preventing --- preventing ----

OK, I understand that exercise is really about having time to listen to your ipod in peace (see comment last posting....). Is there anything else? I'm going to ask the personal trainer tonight. But maybe you'll have some thoughts for me and the other couch potatoes striving for -- for--- for----- whatever.....

Exercise: The Horror, the Horror...

2005-07-30T12:59:00.000-07:00

For all of you bona fide exercise lovers out there, I ask you --

How did you get that way? What twist of aesthetic perversion helped you become comfortable with the bleeping, pounding and TV-radiated environment of the average gym? What keeps you going back? Is it those seductive endorphins?

Because I cannot bear the machine-mill that most gyms have become. Even Curves is just a bunch of machines, waiting to torture the next victim. Sometimes me. Usually some grim-faced, zombie-like treadmill-walker with an I-pod. The TV or TVs flickering above us, the thump of the masturbatory work-out music (pump pump pump aaaaaah pump pump pump aaaaah). The horror!

I don't really mind the exercise itself. I like that part of it, actually. It's the environment, designed for efficiency perhaps, but certainly not humanity. We've long known that we get strapped into desks at school so that we'll be less uncomfortable when we get strapped into our cubicles when we join the 9-5, regulated by silent bells and fast-food lunch half-hours. What are we being trained for in the gym environment?

I suspect we're learning that the body is a machine -- not a sensual, flexible collective of organs and muscle and bone and skin, but a machine we can "work out" with the dispassionate science of sleek progressive machinery that measures our heart beats and regulates our calorie expenditure. And if my body is a machine, then I am only a mind encased in that machine, so I best keep it well-oiled and regular, and distract my mind with a little expensive downloaded music so I can keep on creaking through the world with my eyes on whatever prize I'm supposed to focus on.

And even if the metaphor has some merit, biologically, it certainly loses a great deal of soul in the gym-bot environment.

No wonder most Americans would rather be fat than fit, if this is our cultural solution to fitness. March, march to the beat of the faux-disco-reggae-TV-pulse of the World Gym machine. March, march, to a healthier death, with plump muscles and withered spirit. Although it's no better to be tethered to the couch watching TV (watching like the marching zombies, sinking into blankness), there has to be a better way to activate and energize healthy bodies!

Otherwise, the machine story wins. I, for one, am not a machine.

Maybe Duke Ellington had it right: "It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing!" Dancing, anyone?

Backburner Budgeting: How to Have the Time and Thought You Need to Get the Job Done

2005-07-26T06:57:00.000-07:00

Every coach eventually gets down to talking about time management -- scheduling, getting tasks done, keeping your appointments with yourself, breaking your big task into smaller, calendared steps, and other important organizing principles that help you make the most of your time.

But what about that essential backburner time, when the project you're working on can simmer on the stove way behind your eyeballs. That's the place where our best ideas come from, where we synthesize and problem-solve. It's vital to give the backburner process a chance as we plow forward on our projects.

Remember the story about Einstein? He had the groundbreaking insight about his famous theory when he stepped up into a bus. Sure, he'd spent hours working. But from the backburner of his teeming brain, inspiration came away from the desk.

So how do we open up to that kind of inspiration, when the deadline is looming and the technology, rehearsals, baking, or whatever, has to be done? Here are some suggestions.

1. When you begin to feel fried (however that feels to you) set your alarm for a 10 minute cat nap. Hold yourself to the time limit, and you'll probably feel refreshed and calm, and ready to move forward. Let your backburner have a few minutes to work. Avoid the temptation to take a long nap, because you'll switch out of the project gear and into deep sleep, and once you wake up, you'll be facing an even more draining time crunch!

2. Schedule some down time into your days. Take an hour at lunch to listen to music, or take a walk. Don't make yourself think about the project or work through your break. When you get back to work, you'll be refreshed and have some new ideas.

3. When you get a deadline for a project, work backwards, planning not only the time you need to spend doing things, but also the time you need to spend brainstorming, dreaming and thinking up ways to add that spark to your project.

And never underestimate the power of backburner inspiration. It's the source of most things we call genius.

Born Into Brothels: Visionary Storyweaving

2005-07-23T11:15:00.000-07:00

I just finished watching Born Into Brothels, the academy award winning documentary about children in Calcutta's brothels, by Ross Kauffman and Zana Briski. Rent it from Netflix (or wherever you can find it!). It is a remarkable testament to the transformative gift of giving the power of storyweaving/storytelling.

The organization Kids With Cameras gave cameras to a group of kids who live in one of Calcutta's brothel districts. Zana Briski lived there, and taught photography, and became an advocate for the kids. The film is amazing, and the photographs even more extraordinary.

What it taught me was that art and empowerment are the same thing -- and that art cannot in itself save the world. Cultural stories and personal stories and economic stories have to shift, too.

I often chafe at the idea that the world changes us, we don't change the world. I believe it works both ways. The kids and Zana Briski would testify to that. But it's not clear what will happen to these children. Will the girls who did not or could not stay in school avoid prostitution and become lawyers, engineers, artists, doctors? Will the boys realize their dreams of being artists or university students?

In the clutter of stories, the eloquent images, all simple answers become complicated. And yet, the film is so beautiful, the stories we learn so compelling, we can embrace that complexity and layers andbe tutored through witnessing, from outside the culture through the filmmaker's lens, these lives that break our generalized stereotypes into specifics, real stories of freedom and limitation and creative power.

We all struggle to capture and share our vision of the world. Too many of us simply put our creativity off for another day. These children show us that wherever we are -- privileged or poor -- there's no time to lose.

Help! What gets you un-stuck?

2005-07-20T06:25:00.000-07:00

I've written on snags and lies and distractions,
Better and worse and indifferent actions,
Greased wheels and squeaky wheels, flat tires and full,
Places for pushing and moments to pull.
But I wonder what you think? What gets you unstuck?
What's your motivation? What gives you good luck?
Please tell me, oh, tell me, and send me no spam,
And I'll give you a big plate of Green Eggs and Ham!

OK, all rhyming aside -- What gets you unstuck when your wheels are mired in the mud of every day concerns? How do you get yourself motivated?

Tell, tell!

The Snag: Untangle it Before it Becomes a Dam

2005-07-18T10:20:00.000-07:00

You're in a relationship, and there's something little that's really bothering you. You decide to keep quiet about it because it's easier, and "you really can't change it anyway..."

You have something to do that you just hate doing -- a financial task or an organizing job or a phone call -- and you keep procrastinating until it seems like a moot point.

You have a nagging toothache and you just don't have time to go to the dentist....

These are the snags that need to be dealt with before they become the dam that blocks your path. Think of a small river or a flowing stream. Have you seen rocks that make little waterfalls, beautiful rushing areas at the edge of the water? After a storm, when a stick lodges in them, the water seems to move just as quickly, and maybe even more brightly, because the stick makes the ledge a little higher, the rush a little faster. But after a week or two, leaves, sticks and garbage begin to lodge against the stick. Pretty soon, the little waterfall becomes a damp rocky dumping ground.

It's the same with the little things that we neglect. They gather other stuckness to them until they build a little dam, then a bigger dam, and then we begin to experience the block in our daily lives -- as shame, as pain, as resentment, or as something undone that impedes all other progress.

The next time you have a quiet hour, see if you can clear up a little snag. If it's already damming the flow, untangle part of it -- start cleaning up the stuck tasks. Make an appointment, call your accountant, write a journal entry about your frustration with your partner's eating habits.

Break the snag down before it becomes big enough to break you down.

Cultivating Clutter II: The Struggle

2005-07-16T08:28:00.000-07:00

It always takes less time to clean up the clutter than it does to think about cleaning it up.

I hate that. No one is immune to this fact of nature. It's exactly what our mothers have been trying to tell us since we learned to make the bed. It's like the law of gravity. Except that instead of planetary motion, we, ourselves, are creating the force that pulls us down, down, down....

As a coach, it's laws like this that keep me humble, because I get to struggle like anyone else. This morning, I am making soup from the refrigerator full of softening vegetables that I had begun to imagine was a warehouse of rotting contagion. Last night I went out to dinner to avoid looking at the refrigerator. Last night I dreamed a ridiculous and horrible dream about a messy fridge and the disappointment in my landlady's eyes.

Forget that she is as human as I am, and her house is as cluttered as mine, and even if it wasn't, a mess of summer vegetables (Run! The zucchini are breeeding!) in the fridge hardly qualifies as a crime. The projections we project into our path don't have to be rational, and it doesn't help to argue rationally with them, because they're part of the clutter, not part of the solution.

OK, so it's a muggy morning and I make the coffee and I grimace and open the fridge to get the milk, and -- hmmm. I take the vegetables out. There aren't so many. They hardly fill the bottom of the soup pan, and only one of them was rotten. Hmmmm....

It's too hot to make soup, much less eat it. (I'm going to freeze it.) I do it anyway. Now the fridge looks FANTASTIC! The kitchen is clean! It took (drum roll please....) 40 sweaty minutes.

That's if you don't figure 24 hours of worry and avoidance.

In my earlier clutter post, I philosophized that we hold clutter in the places where we want to avoid change, or protect some tender part of ourselves.

Sometimes thinking just gets in the way, though. What was I hiding in the refrigerator? I think it was just -- delicious homemade soup.

Hell's Kitchen Mutiny: From Hope to Hype

2005-07-14T07:30:00.000-07:00

The previews were decisive. "Mutiny in Hell's Kitchen!" Jimmy walks out, and it looks like others might as well. There is joy in mudville -- mighty Jimmy has stood up! Reality TV may have to stop in its abusive tracks and reassess.

Before I tuned in, I imagined four scenario that might be true (presented in order of my dearest wish...):

1. Everyone walks out, and Chef Ramsay has to apologize.
2. Everyone walks out, and Chef Ramsay/Fox sells the restaurant to the highest bidder.
3. One or two walk out, and the other two or three contestants are thrilled to be closer to a win.
4. There is no mutiny to speak of.

Of course, what really happens is #4: the Chef yells at Jimmy, who's desperately trying to cook halibut and lobster at the same time: "Come 'ere, you!" and Jimmy, hands full of fish, stops in his tracks and says, "No!" and then there's an abortive verbal kerfuffle and Jimmy walks out for a nanosecond until his teammates call him back because they don't want to lose any more diner satisfaction points. And then later, before he's voted off the chopping block, Jimmy apologizes.

Sigh. If only he'd stood his ground. He was going to get voted off anyway....

We are so eager to sell our souls for a fast-track to a dream and celebrity. What we must constantly remind ourselves is that not only is such abuse unnecessary, but also THE GAME THEY WANT US TO PLAY ISN'T REAL! The real deal is hidden under layers of manipulated images, challenges and distracting mazes. Remember in the first survivor: one of the women voted off somewhere mid season was represented as being lazy, hanging around 24/7 in a hammock -- in truth, she had such severe dysentery they were giving her special medical treatment behind the scenes. Later, another contestant confessed that the scars on her legs were parasitic infestations that left her marked for life and took months to cure. And the audience, all unknowing and uncaring, just kept hoping for a squalid affair or a break from the endless Target commercials....

Perhaps there's less danger for the body in Hell's Kitchen, but the hype and the scripted editing are just as misleading and abusive to audiences and players.

What really happened there on the stage set? Only the Shadow knows....

Living on the Wire: Making Your Own Rules

2005-07-12T07:37:00.000-07:00

It's easy to romanticize individualism and the passionate embrace of new possibility. After all, it's exciting to be part of creating new paradigms, and even more exciting to feel that manifesting power transforming the concepts that we carry at our core.

It's also easy to fall into reactive fear at the thought of change, because our egos do their level best to maintain the status quo and keep us in step with our upbringing and core survival instincts.

Most of us veer between these two extremes as we stagger through our daily lives. It's quite tiring. Romanticism and cynicism, adrenaline rush and fearful contraction, progression and conservation. Is there a middle ground?

It's like walking a tightrope wire -- we can do it, we know how to do it, the world needs us to do it, and we have to keep learning, over and over again, to do it with panache and balance.

Balance is the key, isn't it? We make our own rules, but we negotiate their application in the culture where we live. We break cultural rules strategically, and make sure we keep to a path of integrity so that are effective as we model new paradigms. We find mentors who have blazed the trail, and work with them to learn their balancing strengths, their struggles. We honor the healthy ego's survival instincts, and re-educate ourselves when the knee-jerk ego tries to hold us back with fear, arrogance and limiting stories about the world.

We ask for help, we practice what we preach, and we accept our mistakes with the same energy as we embrace our successes.

Let's face it -- living on the wire is hard work. And exhilarating. Those of us who choose that path have to remember to balance somewhere healthy between the arrogance of romanticized individualism and the fearfulness of our ego-driven aversion to change. We have to learn to walk with sure steps and an attentive sense of ethics, risk and cultural negotiation.

I think it's worth it. What about you?

What Should You Say When You Have Nothing to Say?

2005-07-11T15:19:00.000-07:00

TV: Fear Mongering, Blood, Sex and Cars

2005-07-10T19:54:00.000-07:00

OK, I confess I have a deep love hate relationship with TV. I watch the reality TV, the unreality TV, the "ripped from the headlines" lawodramas, the children's tradingcard-toons and an occasional talk show when I need to get slackjawed with bored wonder. I even watch the commercials.

And I want to say, what's with all the violence?

On Chinese TV, a chaste kiss is censored, and ancient stories are retold in ways that are no doubt coded to engage modern Chinese issues. Violent death happens off screen, unless there are magic swords involved, and then death is not at all bloody and seems to involve shame more than murder. Which is, perhaps its own small death. Unable to understand anything but the broadest plot ideas, I missed the explicit political and erotic experience of TV viewing. But I did not miss all the violence.

Tonight, on Crossing Jordan, they were stalking a serial killer, and we got to see the stalking, the killing and the autopsies! My time in China has made me conscious of the overload of blood and bodies -- I switched it off. But not before I thought about how easy they made it all look! Like some cooking show or a home improvement how-to.... And that's only one example. My two favorites, Medium and the original CSI restage crimes regularly.

Americans must be an appetite for murder, particularly staged on shapely young female extras. We want our guns, we want to be protected from marauders, robbers and terrorists, and we want to see as much violence as we can while we're huddled in our homes protecting ourselves with our guns from all those things and many more.

Does anyone else see a contradiction -- or a parallel? What do we get out of these bloody crime stories?

And what, if anything, does this have to do with our zoom zoom love affair with cars?

What do you think?

Quote of the Week: Wisdom from the Cos

2005-07-08T06:18:00.000-07:00

“I don’t know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody.”–Bill Cosby

Something to remember when someone fixes you with a beady eye and tries to get you to goosestep to their drummer instead of yours....

What's your rhythm? What's your goal? What are your standards?

Evaluate them. Evolve them. But stick by them.

Success is in your hands.

Z-control: Pitfalls and Prophets

2005-07-06T09:04:00.000-07:00

My Calvinist ancestors were probably restless in their graves this morning, muttering to each other and wishing that final bell would sound to wake all sleepers. I probably wouldn't have paid attention if it had rung the final hour, because I was ignoring the alarm, wandering through reruns of dreams. Two full hours of dozing, and I finally pulled myself up into the world, three hours behind schedule, according to my inner clockmaster.

Of course, I was behind on my sleep, cranky and a little crazed, because even though it was a holiday weekend, I was up early working every day, and out late working every night. So I am restored, rather than rebellious, according to my body. According to my datebook, though, I'm already way behind in my business-building goals! True to my training, rather than panic at the paradox, I did a little research.

According to the sleep prophets (sleep docs, that is...) , sleep deprivation is worse than bogarting a morning's work. "With decreased sleep, higher-order cognitive tasks are affected early and disproportionately.
-Total sleep duration of 7 hours per night over 1 week has resulted in decreased speed in tasks of both simple reaction time and more demanding computer-generated mathematical problem solving.
-Total sleep duration of 5 hours per night over 1 week shows both decrease in speed and the beginning of accuracy failure.
-Total sleep duration of 7 hours per night over 1 week leads to impairment of cognitive work requiring simultaneous focus on several tasks.
-In the same simulations, 3 hours total sleep duration was associated with loss of ability to simultaneously appreciate peripheral and centrally presented visual stimuli.
-In tasks requiring judgment, increasingly risky behaviors emerge as the total sleep duration is limited to 5 hours per night. The high cost of an action seemingly is ignored as the sleep-deprived individual focuses on limited benefit."

OK, I feel better, not just because I feel better, but because I don't think I have to feel bad about catching up on my sleep after a week of shortened zs. I mean, if I've put myself in a position where I can't multi-task, can't make accurate visual or personal decisions, can't maintain accuracy in simple tasks, and can't keep up the pace of my life, then I'm better off staying in bed -- and so's the world I'm driving through!

So, how are you sleeping? Need a wake-up call? If you've cut back too much on sleep, you're cutting back on success. Take a nap!

Penguins on the March

2005-07-03T03:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I watched March of the Penguins, and was awed by their parental dedication as they starved and bred and waddled and slid and huddled and cuddled their way through the brutal Southern winter. When I named my business Birds of Change, I wasn't thinking about penguins, but now I see I should have been. What an epic story of adaptation and tenderness. And penguins are the ultimate human/bird crossover. Sure, they have feathers and beaks, but they walk upright and bellow at the cold world and are willing to sacrifice everything for their children. Just like us.

Or better, maybe. The Warner Bros. site, lushly narrated by Morgan Freeman (voice of the film as well), croons, "Love (beat) will find a way." And it certainly does. Those chicks, nurtured in turns by attentive mothers and fathers who do not eat literally for months (!) while they warm the developing egg and then infant penguin, need and get the most tender care to weather the subzero winter. It's such a beautiful, instinctive sacrificial model of parenting. We humans, who tend to overthink everything, have a different struggle, and, perhaps, instincts less absolute.

It must be the environment that brings out such extreme sacrifice. Director Luc Jacquet says of Antarctica, "It's almost not like Earth. It's such a challenge to transmit via film the sensations you feel over there. The scale is just mindboggling. You have icebergs that are 30 kilometers (18.6 miles) wide. There's no human reference point for it." Although the film projects a quite human love story onto these birds, who for a time seem like perfect role models for parents.

Until they turn back into penguins, driven to breed by instinct and once the chicks are old enough, return to their non-monogamous life as single penguins. Then, once what passes for summer comes, the parents who nearly died to nest just leave their fledglings -- just leave them -- on the shore of the ice, to eventually decide to dive in. The love affair is over. Penguins triumph. No sentimentality here. Just pragmatism and the urge to breed and return to the sea. Maybe they're not the best parents in the world, at least according to American models of lifelong nurturance.

But is that a penguin paradox or a human one? Hey, maybe it's just the marketing campaign. Jacquet himself doesn't call it a love story, anthropomorphizing those incredibly anthropomorphizable penguins into benevolent versions of the Batman villain. He says, "It's about the struggle between life and death. It explores the outer limits of what is possible for a creature to experience." A creature.

For a human creature, needing to see him or herself in everything, the penguins mirror our idealized vision of parenting. We best be careful what we wish for, though, in our sentimental mirroring of nature. Perhaps it would be healthier -- for the planet and our own peace of mind -- if we simply admired the balance of nature that makes it possible for creatures to survive in the most apparently hostile environments. Something to preserve, something to remind us that we're not the only penguins in the sea.

Art and the Story of Ourselves

2005-07-02T09:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was working on the series of poems I'm developing to explore Jungian archetypes as a kind of elemental engine for human stories, and I drew a poppy-like mandala of yellow and gold for the Warrior. It got me thinking about flowers -- which at first don't seem to fit warrior energy -- and flowers in art, and flowers in our stories.

Flowers in art: these great sprawling, sybaritic pictures are often described as decorative, but if you've ever seen an O'Keefe or some of the art deco work from the 1920s, you know that flowers can be a fierce image that drives us to look at the world in an uncompromising way. It's not just about the blunt sexuality of pollination (which is only sexual in our eyes, probably). It's also about the visceral anatomy of flowers, and their insistence on blooming, and blooming again. Look at the real thing -- more fierce than any O'Keefe, and more soft. That paradox can take us pretty far in understanding ourselves, even if we're only exploring

Flowers in Our Stories: The family gardener, the graceful lawn, the drape of the roses over the driveway, the azalea announcements that make our home suddenly a wash of color -- these stories have layers. For me, it's my grandfather, my mother, and the women who built the gardens here at the house where I live now. Their hands and stories come up in the flowers around me. And living in a house of flowers, I am adopting their stories, short cycles that reflect a mortality that stuns me, until the next flowers come out and I forget. The tenacious weeds that turn out to be beautiful blooms. The green abundance that turns out to be poison ivy, or the majestic pokeweed. Our stories are the same -- cluttered with weeds and domesticated plants and orchards of investments that bloom and fruit and wither and bloom again.

So what does that mean for the warrior? I'm going to write that poem today, so I'll find out then. But for me, the flower is a lot more than decoration.

Cultivating Chaos? Stop It!

2005-07-01T04:50:00.000-07:00

I looked around my life and the lives of my friends and clients the other day, and had a rude awakening. Each of us (yes, even the coaches, therapists and world leaders!) are cultivating chaos in some part of our lives.

For me, it's my second office. I just moved, and I've been traveling a lot (that's my excuse...) and I haven't really unpacked the in-house office yet. I surveyed the boxes and stacks yesterday and realized that they seemed to loom over the room -- bigger than they were before. They are growing! I'm actually cultivating clutter in that space in the house, and it's a drain on my time, energy and efficiency.

I don't want to cultivate clutter -- who does? I know it's not good for my state of mind to search through boxes to find something I need. Then why do I -- why does anyone-- do it?

Well, there must be a payoff. My theory is that wherever we are cultivating clutter, that's the place where we need an excuse to slow down and consider what we're doing. But maybe we don't know how to do it consciously. How liberating it would be if we could just give ourselves a break -- without breaking our necks tripping over boxes! -- and slow down without hobbling ourselves.

My issue is that I have the residue of two past careers in boxes (journalist and educator), and I don't quite know how to integrate them into my current life. Gradually, that integration is happening, chaos or no chaos. What a difference it would make to have a room where I could really relax as I build my writing and teaching skills more deeply into my consulting and healing practice!

What's making you slow down? Sit yourself down with a beverage of your choice, and get quiet. Ask yourself, how is this chaos helping me to slow down in this area? Why do I want to slow down? And when you know the answer -- however preliminary -- make a commitment to consciously slow down and really think about, get help about, and explore that issue. Talk to friends, a coach, a colleague, your pastor, the guy next to you on the bus. And start clearing up the chaos right away, a little bit at a time if you have to. Believe me, it's worth it.

Speaking of worth it, I'd love to stay, but I have to put together another book case. I have no idea which books I'll choose to display, but it will likely be an eclectic combination of everything I've loved about my various professions. And I'll have more floor space for that cool lamp and comfy chair I've wanted to move into my office....

Is chaos your way of resisting change? Find out how to appreciate change, instead of resisting it! Change Always Leads Us Home

Hell's Kitchen: Identity Theft

2005-06-28T16:48:00.000-07:00

OK, so I'll admit it -- I watch Hell's Kitchen and will watch it until the last dirty dish goes in the dishwasher for the toxic waste of hostility to be washed down the drain.

Because it is instructive. Really!

Take last night -- Michael, who has been quiet, grim and friendly in a manipulative way, is shown pacing at 3 a.m. talking with the chef's image on a huge poster above the dorm yard. "Michael is not Michael," he says, muttering. "He hasn't been Michael since he walked into Hell's Kitchen. I'm going to win this, if I have to do anything to win." According to the voice-over, this is a nightly ritual.

Michael is not Michael. I don't know about you, but that pushes my "trust buttons." In America, even on reality shows that package edited for-TV false characterizations, authenticity is the core of what we're about. Donald Trump, Martha Stewart -- they are what they are. If Michael is not Michael, who is he? What's behind the quiet mask?

We'll never know, because if they showed us we would all yawn and turn off the television. I mean you have to be a serial killer to have an interesting secret on network TV these days. But this narrative coup brings up a good question for me in my coaching practice, and personal life: how important is it for us to really be ourselves? In our work, on the "screen" of our public life, how many of us really get to be ourselves and succeed?

Too few, in my estimation. But I'm a Yankee individualist, and I was raised to believe that the most successful people are those who really express themselves, not some watered-down version of what they're "supposed to be." I was also raised to believe that if Michael is not Michael, then he's going to end up crazy, even if he wins his own restaurant from a reality show contest.

What do you think?

The Best Advice You Never Heard

2005-06-25T13:45:00.000-07:00

I just got back from an amazing writer's conference (the International Women Writer's Guild), where I taught workshops and got back in touch with my muse. It was fabulous.

Probably the best advice I heard there is the same advice I have routinely ignored for most of my life. So I'm going to tell you (again) and see if you can hear it this time, too....

Mechi Garza, writer and medicine woman, asked us to name the first thing we should do when we wanted to start a big, important project.

We sat there expectantly, waiting for the usual advice: clean the office, get your books and papers in order, get the kids out of the house...

But no! This is what she said: "Pay attention to your health. Eat well, exercise, get rest, go to the doctor if something is bothering you. You can't do anything if you're sick or exhausted."

Your health is your biggest project. As long as the exercise, healthy cooking, and self-care don't become excuses not to write (or whatever your project is), then it's through self-care that our projects can succeed best.

How many times have those words been said and ignored? Too many. Take a deep breath. Take care of your self. Soar.

Bliss Schmiss: When the Path to Bliss Gives You Blisters

2005-06-21T12:34:00.000-07:00

OK, you've followed your bliss and you've landed right in the middle of the Dismal Swamp. Swatting mosquitoes and dodging snakes, you're on a quest that you didn't know you'd chosen. It happens to all of us. The very bliss we seek leads us into struggles we never thought we should endure.

That's the side of bliss that is its greatest gift and its deepest secret. Because when we commit to ourselves, and find the path of our most passionate, cellular, human, karmic, professional and spiritual connection with the world, we move forward at an accelerated rate. The rewards and challenges are both greater as we follow the bliss that is our birthright.

So when you step into the swamp, probably wearing the wrong shoes and carrying a pell-mell packed duffel bag full of God knows what, remember this simple fact: following your bliss means that the cosmos is behind you, with you, working for you as you walk your path. Help is always near. Look around for guides, maps and treasure.

Take a deep breath and trust your bliss. It will lead you home in time for supper, or bring you to a friendly table where you can be fed and warmed and surprised by the joy of new companions.

Can't Stand the Heat?

2005-06-14T14:41:00.000-07:00

I've been watching every Monday night as wanna-be chef after wanna-be chef is voted off the food-prep island of Hell's Kitchen, and it's given me some pause.

Mainly, I keep getting stuck on the very macho and insulting pressure from the Master Chef Host Gordon Ramsay who's responsible for making all the final decisions and keeping the flame high under the pressure cooker of the show. In the credits GR says, "I push the people who work for me, and that's how I get the best out of them." It's so American (even though he's British). So Donald Trump/Martha Stewart/Fear Factor (which started as a British show). Hmm. Maybe I'd best say, it's so Western. The point is this: Eat worms, gut squid, make perfect centerpieces, design impossible marketing campaigns... what's the difference when it's all about struggling for the right to win more abuse and be filmed while suffering for a prize?

Fear and trembling make us strong. What does not kill us.... If you can keep your head while all around you are losing theirs... you'll be a man my son.

I don't know. How does being insulted, scorned and abused make you a better man, much less a better chef? The look of scorn on the Chef's face when someone actually called him a "bleeeeeep" and walked out was classic. As if the walker was a weakling. Was he?

What I keep wondering is, what's wrong with getting out of the kitchen if you can't stand the heat? There's that great saying, "If you're going through Hell, keep going...." What makes it such a mark of pride to stay in abusive employment, marriages, organizations, classrooms, whatever? Sure, if the prize is big enough and the abuse short-term enough, maybe it's worth the sacrifice. (Maybe.) But how do we know when to cut and run free? When is it worth it to let go of a future prize, real or imaginary?

I think our fascination for struggle has something to do with the Ego's attempt to make us feel "special" through suffering, as a way of supporting our most self-defeating beliefs. No pain no gain. I'll never go hungry again (when I make it to the top)... I'll show them how strong I am! Victim now, victor later. Whatever the Ego's victimizing belief, it's not a pretty life story to live.

Wouldn't it be great if all the would-be chefs stood up to GR together? Demanded respect, and walked out if he didn't give it to them? He'd have to admit that the abuse schtick is the only thing that makes the show interesting. I mean, who cares about food prep if it was possible to get out decent meals to everyone in the restaurant in a timely manner? It wouldn't be hard to teach the team to cook and give them the support they needed to do that, if they demanded it.

Such a coup would be the end of this generation of "reality" TV, based almost entirely in dramas of victims voted one by one off the island, while the worst fate is staying behind.

Quote of the Week: Angel on Board?

2005-06-12T16:27:00.000-07:00

"The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone."
George Eliot (1819 - 1880)

If we're awake, this isn't necessarily true. Sometimes we catch a glimpse of gold, have a chance to thank the angels in person.

But even when we miss the opportunity, that doesn't mean we can't send our thanks when we do awaken to the magic that we have experienced. In Reiki, the practice of gratitude is the heart of the journey. A habit of gratitude helps us come closer to the present. That's the first step to breaking the habit of cluelessness that Eliot names so eloquently!

If the world's an oyster, how do you find the pearls?

2005-06-11T18:30:00.000-07:00

OK, I have read (it seems) billions of self-help books that promote the power of a positive attitude. (My favorite parody of that is the 1950's book by comedian Anna Russell, The Power of the Positive Stinker, all about how being a curmudgeon is the key to success!)

While it's true that drug-induced cheer or even over-adrenaline optimism are more frightening than helpful, there's something to this advice chestnut. It's not really about being cheerful, you see. It's about being awake and interested, and living with a dash of hope.

In my practice, I encourage people to find their natural curiosity, instead of behaving in a more perky manner. "I wonder" is usually a more powerful affirmation than "I want." When we wonder forward, meeting new people and identifying opportunities is inevitably part of the our journey. When we cheerfully plunge towards our wants and needs, we will either get what we want, or not. But we may not find the pearls in the oyster beds.

Case in point: I have shucked a lot of envelopes in my time. Letters from journals that are rejecting or accepting a submission, proposal, grant, etc., etc., etc. I have spent a good deal of time mechanically sending out writing and applications to teach workshops, following carefully researched leads and being my own cheerleader. I get my share of tasty oysters, but the pearls always seem to come from opportunities I couldn't have anticipated.

Next week, I'll teach storyweaving at the International Women's Writing Guild's Awakening the Magic conference. I found out about the conference last Thursday, emailed a brief bio and query about getting on their mailing list for the future. When a workshop leader cancelled Friday morning, I got a gig doing a workshop there. Synergy? Yes. Miracle? Maybe. Oyster? Absolutely. Pearl? No doubt.

Curiousity did not, I repeat, did not kill the cat. Curiousity clears out stagnant energy and helps us change self-defeating habits so that we can do the work we're meant to do. Living with a sense of wonder helps us harvest the pearls just beyond our reach.

Now that promotes a positive attitude!

China Tales: Living in Translation

2005-06-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

I remember seeing the film Living in Translation, and thinking it was a great character study. I had no way of knowing that it also expressed something really brilliant about the cultural dislocation of moving through a radically different culture. On the plane coming back from my teaching and touring gig in China last week, everything just fell into place. Living in translation is about developing the patience that opens the heart, and blows the mind!

I loved China. I stayed mostly in the Beijing area, seeing the (profoundly moving and amazing) usual tourist sites, and doing as much people-watching as I could in between teaching management communication classes. My guides were invariably generous and kind, and there were also those strange moments when I would ask a question that could not be translated, either by me in clarification, or by the English skills and cultural context of my guide. And when when I was tired or lonely, it was remarkable how quickly my mind hit those walls and inflated like an airbag in a compact car. Total stop. I had to learn how to let go of knowing through language as I gradually began to know through tone, through visual cues, through quiet observation. I had to learn to use language totally differently, to describe things for which there were no words in common.

It's a privilege, living in translation, because without language we get to open up all our other senses, and the mind (or at least my mind) has to partner with the intuitive and interpretive sources usually left dormant. I remember once I saw a group of laughing men with bikes loaded with cardboard greeting a man standing next to a stack of flat boxes in a median park between busy city roads. I pointed, and asked, "What's happening there?" My guide said, "It is a park," or words to that effect. I took a deep breath to quell my frustration at not being clear, and tried again. (Silly to assume that just by pointing she would intuit my question -- so many things I couldn't see in the frame where I was pointing, so many things that were invisible to her!) She told me it was a job for people with very low skills. I told her about the homeless people in the states who do essentially the same thing. She said she was amazed that there was "the same job" in the United States, where there were so many fewer people, and so much more privilege.

Now here's the interesting thing for me about this little exchange. In translation, these men were Chinese workers. I had just assumed they were unemployed. I still don't know exactly how the economic exchange works for them -- is it similar or different from the direct swap of pennies for scrap we have in the US? Can they afford to live in apartments or rent rooms? There was no way to tell, to follow up. Remember, living in translation means that the facts aren't ever straightforward or interpretable through language alone. I was left with more questions than answers.

So I started looking around. I noticed an clean, agile old woman having friendly conversations as she solicited empty soda bottles from people walking down the street. I saw a middle aged man pushing a bike/cart loaded so high with cardboard and scrap that it dwarfed him as he staggered behind it. He stopped in the middle of the street to talk with a friend. The cars wove around him, fast and honking. I saw very little trash in the streets, and trash collectors/street cleaners sweeping with handmade brooms on every block.

"There are so many people." said the guide to the Beijing Underground City (the bomb shelter Mao built in 1969). Gesturing at the smooth walls, the even, damp ridges in the ceiling at regular intervals, she said. "All hand made." "All hand made," said the vendor, pushing the beaded scarf towards me. "All hand made," said the American entrepreneur on the plane, returning from making a great deal.

"All hand made," I said to my friend admiring the workmanship on the incense burner I bought him. Still living in translation, I wasn't surprised when he said, "It's beautiful! Very cool." He held it in his hand, turned it so that the light glinted off its edges.

I didn't know what to say.

Russell Crowe: Renegade Role Model

2005-06-09T07:13:00.000-07:00

OK, so let's admit that (allegedly) beaning a fancy hotel concierge with a telephone in the pre-dawn hours isn't a great way to express frustration with the phone system. But did you see Letterman last night? Way to go, Russell!

So first, he laughs when Dave puts the telephone on the desk waaaay beyond his reach. Then, he apologizes and admits what he did was just plain stupid. (That's key -- we want to know the story, but he has to show us he's not a psycho, just a hothead!) In the process he finds a way to imply that he was not only sober but motivated by fatigue and frustration because it was his only chance to talk with his wife across the time zone abyss. Then he brings up his 17 month old son, and gets Dave talking about his 17 month old child, and we hear the miracle words, "We'll be back after the break with Russell Crowe."

It's not everyone who lasts past the break with Dave, even if they are one of the latest multimillion-earning superstars. Furthermore, while admitting that Crowe's storyweaving might just be family-hero spin, I have to respect a guy who can make a good story out of an event that is so mindnumbingly banal that if he weren't a star we wouldn't even hear about it.

To bring the point home, let's look at Michael Jackson. He's a great popstar, but he can't weave a story worth a damn. Every time he opens his mouth, he makes himself look bad. At first, the public hung on his every word, and then gleefully dismissed each sentiment as untrustworthy. Part of that is that tragic mask that his face has evolved into, and part of it is his delivery. There's something missing; he seems distracted by some other story. It may or may not be the dirty secret we expect, but it doesn't really matter, because he doesn't seem credible. Lately, I don't think many people really care what he says. He's lost control over his own story.

I know, I know. The magnitude of the alleged crimes is very different. But even though Jackson has freak show fame to tempt any talk show host, I don't think Letterman would necessarily be as comfortable inviting him back after the break.

What is freedom of expression without skill and focus, after all? Congratulations, Russell Crowe, for using storytelling to turn lemons into lemonade.

Did you miss the show? Want to see the clip? Dave put it on his "pics" list!

Where to Begin? Tell a Better Story!

2005-06-08T11:56:00.000-07:00

So here we are, in the middle of, or at least on the cusp of total interpersonal global prestochangeo, and most of us are slogging along doing the same old same old, without even knowing that we could be living a better story. Of course it's not easy to surf the shifting sands, and so there's probably excellent reasons to stay on our towels and keep applying liberal doses of sunscreen and cynical witticisms.

For a few of us, that's gotten old real fast. That's why I started my healing and coaching practice, Storyweaving, and Birds of Change to help my fellow seekers find the story they really want to live, in their personal and business lives. It's about more than finding our passion and creating a business plan, and everyone who leaps into the new knows that. It's about living the new story on every level -- and letting the new story come to life every day in unexpected ways!

I know, you're thinking I'm saying I'm talking story and just talking, so.... This morning I woke up and the sun was dappling through the green summer leaves, and the smell of lilacs (or whatever that puffy magic-wand flower bush is) spread through the breezeway into the kitchen, and I stood at the sink, looking at the dirty dishes and feeling cranky. The dueling smells of the soaking dishes and the lilac woke me up. I had a choice -- I could go with hating the garbage-and-fat smell of last night's chicken, or I could ride the lilac into a better story. It was a rough ride today, because it meant navigating past dishes that needed washing, boxes that needed unpacking, and a business plan that needed re-activating (don't they always???). I breezed out of there and rode the lilacs to my favorite coffee shop, full of sun and my fellow self-employed community members. I know I'll get to the dishes and unpack the boxes tonight -- I always do -- and instead of sulking, I've moved into a better story(teller). Who knew I'd tell the story of my adventure in a Chinese wax museum where I was taking a break from teaching in Beijing to a flamenco dancer? Who knew I'd hear the bloodcurdling tale of the Chinese empress who put the "dic" into vindictive?

So many stories, so many blogs to come....