Sometimes It Takes A Little Courage

Here we are, one day away from a new year.

2018. Part of me sees that number and just goes: “Wow.”

As in: “How did that happen so quickly? When did we get to 20… anything?” And there’s a little calculation of my age in there too.

But when I interrupt all of that, which is standard new year’s fare, I really can marvel.

When I interrupt all of that and think about what has changed for me in 2017, I am more in WOW than usual.

In my last post I suggested a way to do a mini year in review, and I’ve been playing along as well.

And in some ways the results are predictable. There are big parts of 2017 I will be delighted to let go of. But there are also big parts that I just kind of stare at in wonder. I’m amazed at the changes I see in myself. I amazed at the changes I see in my business. I’m amazed at the changes I see in my relationships. Wow.

chase your dreamsAnd so I enter this arbitrary restart point that is new year’s eve with the confidence and courage that really pushing yourself can bring. I’ve been doing the work (inside and out) and things are changing. And I’ve noticed that even when they don’t work out just the way I expect, they still get better. I see my own growth. I see my own progress. I can note how my learning, effort, planning, and time have changed my life for the better.

So I can come to my vision for the next year with some sense that whatever I’m dreaming up IS possible. I’m coming to this moment with a whole lot more “YES” than I’ve been willing to give in the past. I’m willing to take risks, work hard, and possibly even fail because when I do those things, my life is better. I feel better. Everything gets better.

It was not always this way for me. At some point in the not so distant past, I had to face this moment without the confidence that experience can bring. I had to face having a vision, a new idea for my life, a new hope with huge uncertainty in anything but my inability to accomplish what I imagined. I faced that moment with tremendous fear and a sinking feeling that it would never work.

If you feel that way when you look into the future, if you see no chance for change in your year to come, I want to tell you that you are wrong. And I’m going to ask you to take action anyway.

I get the impression that a lot of people think that courage is the absence of fear. We think that we need to somehow conquer our fear, banish it, overcome it. I’m going to suggest to you that courage is simply acting even though you are afraid. That’s it. That’s all it is, a decision to do it anyway.

There are lots of ways to go about this. You can imagine that your fear is a small suffering animal that needs you to be compassionate to it before you act anyway. You can imagine a chair where you can tell fear to go sit while you do the scary things. You can imagine that your fear can just exist and that you can notice it and allow it to be without doing anything at all about it. Or you can just be absolutely terrified and just proceed.

Finding courage to chase dreamsAnd then you will be acting, with courage, and creating the confidence you need to do it again simply by making that choice.

What would you do in 2018 if fear wasn’t driving the bus? What would you say yes to? What action can you take today that will give you the confidence to take another action tomorrow?

If you need some help creating courage or acting on your vision, I sure would love to help.

Yes You Can

My son had his first piano recital yesterday.

He is NOT someone who relishes being in the spotlight, on stage, watched intently in any way.

It was a big deal.

As I watched him and the 24 other students perform, I found myself overcome with emotion many times, not just maternal pride, but something deeper, something that wasn’t just about me and my boy.

It think what I was sensing is all of the ways a GOOD recital reflects the best parts of our world, and I don’t know about you, but I could use a little reminding right about now of some of the best parts of our world, not so I can ignore the bad, but so I can remember WHY I care about the bad, so I can remember why hope and effort matter so much.

Life Lessons in the Recital Hall

1. Community Matters. We all know this, but sometimes we get so involved in our own stuff that we forget. We forget about the people who make some of our own stuff possible. When we arrived (early so he could see the room, get comfortable, maybe even run through his piece), the performance space had been completely rearranged and decorated to provide the best experience for performer AND audience. Tables were set up and decorated and treats arrived with each family so that everyone could enjoy something afterwards. It was festive, and it took work. Community matters.

2. There will most likely always be someone who is better than you. When we arrived yesterday, my son walked into the sanctuary of the church where the recital was held to find a very advanced student warming up on her piece. He had hoped to sit at the grand piano for a minute to see how it felt, but quickly lost his interest in playing anything after she was finished. He didn’t want to be compared to her AT ALL. He was already doing enough of that himself. He didn’t tell me so, but I know he was afraid that all of the other performers would be more like her and that he would be the only beginner.

There is no shame in being a beginner3. You are never the only beginner. What he discovered when a family friend (who also was there supporting a performer) clued us in to the other piano in a more private location where he could practice is that he was far from the only beginner, and perhaps more importantly, he was not the oldest beginner. The recital featured students of all ages at all stages in the learning process. It is much easier to be kind to ourselves as beginners when we remember we are not alone.

4. Everyone makes mistakes. Of the 25 or so pieces that were played, I think there were 2 in which there were no mistakes I could discern. All of the students made mistakes – different levels of mistake, but mistakes nonetheless. And you know what happened? Not a darned thing. Nobody asked them to step away from the piano. Their teacher did not get frustrated. Their parents did not shame them. They had the grace of the group to handle their mistake and finish the piece they had prepared. The audience cheered for everyone because everyone makes mistakes.

5. A corollary: being perfect is not the point. When students prepare for a recital, they are sure that the point is to play the piece flawlessly, but I am pretty convinced that this is not the point at all. The recital offers an opportunity that is far greater, far deeper, far more important for the development of the self and the soul than playing a piano piece perfectly. The point of the recital is to share yourself, and to do without being deterred by fear or flaw. The point of the recital is to take a moment to acknowledge growth, development of skill and to grow and develop as a human by keeping fear at bay and getting to the finish line no matter what. Being perfect was never the point.

6. It is never too late. My son was so sure he would be embarrassed by his beginner status ate the ripe old age of 10. Amongst the students yesterday were several adults. Some were very advanced. Some were not as advanced, but they reminded us all that it is never too late. It is never too late to try something new. It is never too late to improve a skill. It is never too late to spend time on something that fills your heart. It is never too late to share yourself. It is never to late to have another chance to put fear in its place and go through with your plans as you made them. It is never too late.

7. The audience wants you do well AND wants you to feel good. They want you to do well, but not really because they don’t want to listen to poorly performed music (although there might be a little of that). They mostly want you to do well because they want you to have a good experience. They want you to feel proud of yourself. They want you to have concrete evidence of the growth and courage that they see when you walk to the front of the hall. The audience even loves you, not just your parent. They are all holding you in hope and compassion as you take that risk.

I know that a recital is not the world at large, that a smaller group of people with similar interests might be different, kinder to one another, special, but isn’t it possible that these things are or CAN be true everywhere, especially if we look for it, if we don’t imagine that they’re not true or only notice when people behave badly?

Just do youIsn’t it possible that there is a safe space in the world for you to share yourself, to acknowledge what you’ve been up to, to give of yourself, to set fear aside and just do the thing so we can all cheer for you?

I’ll be the one in the front row with an inappropriate noise-maker and glittery signs.

Go do that thing.

Are You Aware of Your Mastery?

 

She said: “I’m not an expert” and then told me, as an aside, how she was quickly able to answer a potential client’s question – no hesitation. Her client walked away from that exchange with information that could change her daily life. And my client walked away without the confidence that her training and years of preparation should afford her.

There’s a thing that can happen with mastery. When we study something deeply, or at least repetitively for a long time, it becomes part of who we are. We can act on that mastery without thinking about it. And THAT can get us into trouble.

Acknowledge what you're good atWomen are not always encouraged to reflect on, celebrate, and talk about their mastery. They’ll even give credit for their work away to others (especially to male colleagues at work). So even though they achieve these levels of ability and skill, they don’t share that with others and after a while, they sort of forget that there was mastery involved at all. Let me give you a few examples.

Example 1: This is about yours truly, but I KNOW it applies to others because I’ve heard it. I stayed at home with my twins for 10 years. I did do some part-time work in there, and the amount of work time increased in the last several years as I pursued my coach training and established a practice, but for all of those 10 years I was the chief cook and bottle washer. I was squarely in charge of our entire domestic scene. This was a job I took on willingly, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t wear on me. As our employment picture has shifted, we have worked toward rebalancing the domestic load, my grad student and self-employed husband taking on more and entrepreneur and musician me casting off tasks. And for some time this shift caused a great deal of discomfort. He didn’t do things right. He took forever to complete tasks I could whiz through. He didn’t see the messes and the problems that were screaming out for attention. And it drove me crazy, until I realized that this whole domestic scene was an area in which I had achieved mastery. While I didn’t love a lot of it, I had become extremely efficient. These tasks were second nature. I could execute them quickly, without even thinking about it most of the time. My irritation with him both shortchanged him of the room to grow and learn AND failed to acknowledge the amount of learning and skill that went into my handling of these tasks in the first place. I had achieved mastery. My execution of that role had become intuitive, could be in flow, and was a demonstration of hours and hours of practice.

Example 2: I have a friend who has always been interested in health. She is constantly reading about nutrition, alternative therapies, anything she can get her hands on that describes things people can do to take better care of their bodies. (I actually have a handful of friends that fit this description now that I’m thinking about it). She is also a nurse by trade and is in graduate school. I turn to my friend when I have physical and medical questions, which as someone with an undiagnosable joint problem, I do with some regularity. And I can see the wheels in her mind turn as we discuss whatever I’m asking about. I see her accessing all of those cerebral files. I see her deciding what’s relevant and what’s not with lightening speed. I take her recommendations seriously because they have not yet failed me. And yet, she regularly tells me that she is not as smart as _____________. Her mastery goes unacknowledged internally. Her ego doesn’t even get the boost of feeling proud of all of the value she offers the world on a regular basis, because she doesn’t recognize her own mastery.

Example 3: I have a new part of my practice, helping coaches and other service professionals to create a signature program so that they can serve their clients in deep and meaningful ways. This development is a mastery story in two way. First of all, I had to acknowledge my own mastery of curriculum planning – my deep understanding of how to teach – in order to offer this as a service. It struck me during a conversation with a fellow coach that I had knowledge and skills, mastery, that might be helpful to others. The second way this is a mastery story is that this process requires my clients to acknowledge their own mastery. What do you know about/know how to do that the people you want to work with don’t? Where is your flow and who needs that? Who do you want to work with and what can you offer them? These questions always remind my clients that they DO have mastery, that the skills and knowledge that they take for granted are taken for granted because they’ve mastered them. When they acknowledge that mastery, our work together takes off like a rocket.

How to feel more confidentAnd I say all of this to give you a moment, a chance to pause and really take a good hard look at yourself. Because I’m betting there’s some mastery there. There’s something (probably many things) that you do and do well without even thinking about it, and that you’ve done well for so long that you think everyone can do that (or knows that or thinks that or makes that). You’ve forgotten that your mastery is, in fact, YOURS. You’ve forgotten to remember the ways that you shine, and by ignoring your mastery, your sparkles have grown a little dim. Nobody can see what you can do and learn from you, be inspired by you, find courage to shine themselves when you extinguish your light.

What are you a master at? What can you do without really breaking a sweat? Take a moment and see it, see your own mastery, your own unique blend of skill, learning and intuition. See it and remember that you can shine and others will bask in that light.

If you need some help polishing your glitter, please do get in touch. I’d love to share my shine with you.