Who's With You?

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

–Theodore Roosevelt

April 23, 1910

In her book, Daring Greatly, Brene Brown talks about the impact of Teddy’s speech on her personal transformation.  What she came to realize was that the people who love her, the one’s she really depends on are never the critics in the stands, pointing at her while she stumbles.  The people who really matter are not in the bleachers at all, but in the arena… fighting for and with her.  She decided that to evaluate her worthiness by weighing reactions of the people in the stands is nothing but a horrible waste of time.  Because the people who love her will remain in her arena, no matter where she’s at in her process of discovery, no matter the foreseeable outcome.

And then there’s that thing… that heart-wrenching reality that sometimes we’re deep in someone’s arena, while they are just sorta chillin’ up in our stands.  And at other times, we’re hanging out up in the bleachers of someone who has a full-fledged investment in our arena.  Trying to bring light to this heartbreaking/confusing/uncomfortable occurrence with my new roomy Mel… we just sort of each took turns asking, “What do you do…?”

It at some point becomes a matter of how long we fight someone’s fight who won’t fight ours.  With guiding beliefs that everyone deserves love and support, how much of ourselves are we willing to give up when support is not mutually exchanged?  There are a million factors and variables and gray areas that we can spend a lifetime dissecting as to why so-and-so is not in our arena, and then there's this simple fact: When someone is not in our arena, they are in the stands.  And when they are in the stands, there is no safety for us in their arena, resulting in unhealthy sacrifice.  The beautiful thing about these experiences are that they remind us of who is in our arena… which in the long run, amounts to balanced sacrifice, for when we are safe in someone’s arena, they’re safe in ours too. 

Confusion. Struggle. Loss. Heartbreak. Sickness. Death. Change. 

Inevitable processes of the human experience.  And it’s at these times that there is really only one thing that matters:

And that’s WHO. 

Who’s with you?

Who’s there to hold your hand? Pick up the phone in the middle of the night? Make you chicken soup? 

Who’s there to offer you just the words you need, or nothing at all, but simply be there because they care?

Who supports your process? 

Who believes in your dreams?

We can’t learn to be vulnerable and courageous on our own, and sometimes our first and greatest dare is asking for the support we need.  When we are asking someone who’s in our arena, there’s an unspoken agreement that someday we will return the favor.  Being in each other’s arenas is a commitment and responsibility… yet one that ultimately has the highest return of ANYTHING we are capable of investing. 

Through our investment we’re saying… “I’m with you. In the arena. And if we fail, we’ll fail together, while daring greatly.”

“…Love like your life depends on it.  Cuz it does.”

–Michael Franti

On Being Awake.

Wise Choosing. Intuition. Clarity. Gratitude. Ease. Understanding. Direction. Connection. Happiness. Love.  

All pretty important eh?  All areas that we could grow into stronger, experience more naturally… expending less precious energy on the fight to figure it out, and more on developing and accelerating in our unique and important missions. 

So what is it exactly?  What is that thing, that magical little droplet of a thing that links all of these magnificent acts of being together and to us? 

To me it’s real simple.  Because it is… just one thing.  One way. One focus.

Ready for it?

In my mind, it all boils down to Paying Attention.

Well duh right?  I know it sounds so… trivial, bordering on condescension, associated with disempowering voices of authority. 

But if we can disentangle this notion from our, say, repressive educational experiences, and apply it to our adult living experiences, paying attention quite simply means activating our senses.  Being awake in our moment – seeing, tasting, smelling, hearing, and feeling what’s happening inside and around us.

Zeroing in on the details.  Looking closely.  Making connections between phenomena - because there’s nothing more real than the fact that everything, and I mean EVERYTHING is connected.

It’s about paying attention to our bodies, and the reality that they are always sending us signals.  A rash is not just a rash.  Neither is constipation, lethargy, a lump, or chronic allergies.  All of these are signs, cries for help, that something is out of balance and needs to be paid attention to.  When we choose to ignore, numb or suppress our body’s signals, we are sending ourselves the message that we are not worthy of health, that our fear or apathy is more valuable than our life.  For my mom, it was an ultrasound her doctor ordered that could have caught the cancer 6 months before it took her.  The signs were all there – pain, discomfort, yellowing eyes, months and months of an on again off again flu.  But her fear of the truth swallowed her life in one ruthless fell swoop.      

We must shift our understanding to viewing things WHOLLY, rather than in parts, slices, and fragments. Thinking in a circle (how it all connects) rather than in a line (how it all ends).  It’s about remembering as often as possible that everything small represents something much larger – that a cell is the universe and the universe a cell. 

It’s remembering that our actions and thoughts feed back into one big ol’ collective pot of energy soup, and we all receive nourishment from the same dang pot.  It’s taking responsibility for the ingredients that we contribute.  Are they healthy? Wholesome? Spicy? Fresh? Or are they toxic? Empty calories? Processed bullshit filled with carcinogens?  Are they easy or are they right?  Did you prepare them with love or with carelessness?  Every thought, every choice, every act counts.  Because if we like it or not, we are all feeding each other, our earth, and our sweet selves with the energy we cultivate and maintain.

My sister-in-law, Lindsay (although we usually omit the in-law part) once told me that it’s about reading your life like a novel.  There are signs, symbols, and connections all over, everywhere.  And it’s true.  The closer we pay attention to the details, the more meaningful and clear our missions in this life become.  My mom sends me ladybugs.  That’s when I know that she’s with me, validating my moves, letting me know that she’s got my back.  And with out fail, it’s always in times I need her most that a little lady finds its way to me.

And it’s as brilliant and simple as Paying Attention.  Although the reality is that it’s much more simple in theory.  We have to consciously re-train our mental patterns… choosing to not waste our lives trapped inside our heads, perpetually trippin’ on the past, and trying to control the future. Paying Attention is a life-long dedication.  It’s a meditation through life.  It’s the way the monks do.  

It’s also the way to genuine happiness, real fulfillment, and true love. This shit saves lives. 

Which means to me that it’s definitely worth some honest ongoing practice.

What does it mean to you?   

What Doesn't Kill Ya....

It’s a remarkable moment when we remember that Strength is our birthright.

And anything that is our birthright at some point becomes our responsibility.

    

The amazing thing about Strength is that it offers itself as most crucial in moments when we feel like we have none.  An emotional muscle that must be exercised in order to grow, we have no choice but to endure pain and struggle to build its commanding capacity. 

It feels important to note that the act of being strong does not replace the act of being vulnerable as one might be fooled into thinking.  The two actually coexist as life-long companions, and are always informing one another of their individual and collective power.  It’s by having an open heart that Strength and Vulnerability are able to make their most impressive headway.  As it takes strength to be vulnerable, and vulnerability to be strong, I can’t help but ponder which came first… in a chicken or the egg sorta way.

From Emma’s black book: The word vulnerability stems from the Latin "vulnerare" -> "to wound". The definition includes "capable of being wounded" and "open to attack or damage.”

Weakness is the inability to withstand attack and wounding.      

Just like we can’t quite understand Strength with out getting to know Vulnerability rather intimately, we also cannot truly know Strength with out becoming deeply connected with Fear.  You see, the two are intrinsically linked for survival’s sake, as Fear is Strength’s greatest motivational force.  To be strong is not the same as being fearless, because Strength is not concerned with Fear’s eradication.  Strength instead is more interested in becoming close with Fear, learning what makes it tick, where it comes from, and how long it’s been around. And when the source has been uprooted from the depths of the soul's unique history, Strength stares Fear directly in the eye, in a tough-love kinda way, and gracefully advise that it step the fuck down before its ass gets trampled on.  

In my personal investigation of Strength this week, I tuned in to one of its miraculous functions, based on the interconnectedness of our extraordinary beings.  I’m beginning to see that if our quest is one of balance, then our Strength can become all encompassing.  This week, my heart was weak in a way that felt beyond my control.  And so I had a choice. To become consumed by the weakness, or to build strength in areas within my command.  Remembering that along with a heart I also have a body, mind, and spirit - I doctored up my prescription. 

And so I went to the gym...a lot, I opened my home to guardian angels, wrote letters to God, hosted a Women's poetry evening, worked diligently on my art, and read books about things that matter. And like magic, my heart's strength is slowly but surely returning with more power then it had before it was broken.  And so I believe it to be true... in times of weakness, we're given a fresh opportunity to become strong in areas that we were previously sustaining in mediocrity.  Weakness is nothing more than an invitation for a Strong-All-Over-Makeover.    

Okay, now stop. Close your eyes, and take deep a breath.

This last little part is the most important, so please pay close attention.

Always, always remember that Strength lives in the heart.  Because of this, we must keep our hearts clean, warm and open – a spacious reservoir for Strength to rest and recover as it builds its power for when needed again.  And as Strength gets bigger every time it’s summoned, so must its home.  There is no better means to grow our hearts then to Love in the best ways we know how.   

(click to read the fine print)

Be good out there. Be Strong.

Stories of Strength. Bring'Em. 

Here's to Loss.

“Losing love is like a window in your heart.  Everybody sees you’re blown apart. Everybody feels the wind blow.” 

Good ol' Paul Simon, just nails it, eh?  

As I'm sure we all can attest, loss just might be the most difficult thing we endure as a human species, and the root of many of our deepest fears. 

And because of this, it ends up doing a tremendous deal for us.

Words from a wise comrade: "We practice in life so we are graceful through death." 
--Ryan Patrick Laine. 

I think it’s safe to say that we experience the transformational benefits of loss only when we truly surrender to it.  Surrender to that gut-wrenching pain, to the uncontrollable tears in inconvenient situations, to the dull ache in the heart.  Taking the time to hate every single second of it, but feeling it, really fucking feeling it like your future happiness depends on it.  Because, well, it does.
     

This kind of surrender requires an immense amount of courage.

When we have the courage to feel, we are gifted in return with the capacity to heal.  The ability to learn monumental lessons that loss inevitably invokes, and the experience of deep gratitude for what and whom we still have. 

When we act in the best ways we know how, we don’t have to suffer from regret.  When we do everything we are able, we will heal back to wholeness and carry on with dignity, compassion, and greater understanding.  There's something to remembering the inevitability of all things eventually lost as the most valuable motivation to being our best selves to others.  This is the greatest gift loss offers.    

There is no better way to build strength and resilience then to lose something or someone near and dear to the heart. 

There is no better time to call upon faith, to connect with spiritual truths then when our hearts are broken, seeking comfort and meaning.    

It’s through loss that we build our ability to empathize with the pain of others, eventually gifting our experience of heartbreak to the comfort and solidarity of another.

In times of loss, it is our great challenge to choose healthy mechanisms for coping.  It is our great challenge to pour our energy into the things that make us better and bring us joy.

It is our great challenge to remember that time is the principal healer and if we allow our hearts to remain supple and open, then opportunity for future triumph is guaranteed. 

I warn against the fear of feelings.

I warn against building emotional walls.

I warn against mind/body/spirit numbing acts and concoctions.

These forms of temporary relief will cause much more damage in the long run.

When we allow ourselves to lose with presence and awareness, we are allowing ourselves to win the happiness that is meant for us. 

And so my advice goes as such:

Cry your fucking eyes out.

Scream your ass off.

Break some shit.

Give yourself the freedom, the right, and the power to feel the pain and overcome.

As we share our stories of loss, we make room in our hearts for joy. 

The floor’s all yours.  

Have you Trusted today?

In The Book of Qualities, J. Ruth Gendler identifies Trust as the daughter of Truth and the mother of Love. 

Let’s think about that for a minute.  Recalling a time when we’ve journey’d into love that was not linked to our Truth.  What did it feel like?  An addiction?  A wayward exploration of our darkness?  A story rooted in insecurity, suspicion, and disharmony?  Playing the victim, making deals with the devil that eventually becomes nothing short of fucking-crazy-making?  And in its way, an important and valuable journey – as the lessons are profound.  Yet it’s of my opinion that in order to grow higher, it’s a path that ought to be trod not much more than once.

Truth we know.  Truth is built into our souls, into our DNA, into the highest part of each of us.  Truth is something that we test, validate, and search for, but it’s finite in its manifestation, and speaks to each of us in a language completely unique and completely universal.  It speaks through our bodies, our guts, our hearts.   

Love (in each of its variations) is what we all in some way instinctively strive for – even if it shows up as active rejection.  Love gives us purpose, the ability to endure struggle and loss, a healthy push to step outside of ourselves and connect to something greater.  Love is how we are able to really see ourselves, grow our hearts, and raise vibrations to make the world better.  Love when connected to Truth is the strongest power of our human capacity.     

And then there’s Trust. Trust is the passageway.  When mapping out Trust to grow my connection to Truth and my ability to Love, I realized that to trust another, I must trust myself.  And to trust myself, I must trust in the greater good of humanity.  And to trust humanity’s goodness, I must be humanity’s goodness. And to be humanity’s goodness, I must trust the universal power (the mystery), and have unyielding faith in the grand-master-plan in which the details - the struggles that gift us growth - can feel nothing short of heart breaking.  I must trust enough to be patient for the moments when purpose is revealed and a glimpse into the Plan is possible. 

And so I ask, what does this Trust stuff look like?  How does it play out in the day-to-day? 

These are my ideas:

To trust is to speak honestly. Every. Single. Time. 

To trust is to choose kindness, to smile by default.

To trust is to listen, to be still, to be open.

To trust is to be awake, to be aware, to be present.

To trust is to be curious, to inquire, to seek.

To trust is to embrace change, to remain flexible, to go with the flow.

To trust is to understand your gifts and your limitations, and to get to know them both intimately. 

To trust is to try new things, to support challenge, to be okay with lookin’ like a fool. 

To trust is to actively forgive others, and especially yourself.

To trust is to live with out excuses.

To trust is to express gratitude. 

To trust is to breathe through the pain.    

What follows is J. Ruth Gendler’s personification of Trust:

Trust is the daughter of truth. She has an objective memory neither embellishing nor denying the past.  She is an ideal confidante, gracious, candid and discreet.  Trust talks to people who need to hear her.  She listens to those who need to be heard.  She sits quietly with those who are skeptical of words.  Her presence is subtle, simple, and undeniable.  Trust rarely buys round trip tickets because she is never sure of how long she will be gone and when she will return.  Trust is at home in the desert and in the city, with dolphins and tigers, with outlaws, lovers and saints.  When trust bought her house, she tore out all of the internal walls, strengthened the foundation and rebuilt the door.  Trust is not fragile, but she has no need to advertise her strength.   She has a gamblers respect for the interplay between luck and skill.  She is the mother of love. 

I invite you to share your interpretations/stories/ideas of Trust.  How does it work? What does it mean? How can we engage with it more deeply? 

And I THANK YOU for reading.