#22 - Around the bend (3/7)

It's nice to remember that things can turn around pretty quickly. 

In an instant, I find that my whole outlook can change. 

Today I went to work feeling in a crummy mood. I had been feeling that way for a couple of days. I had taken some steps to ameliorate my condition, but my negative perspective would not go away. All I could see was cloudy and frowny.

And pretty soon after coming to work, I was around people, and I felt great again. My mood and outlook changed dramatically without anything specific happening.  

What's weird is that for all that time before that, I couldn't see any other possibility than to be sad and forlorn. As hard as a tried, from that vantage point I couldn't imagine that things were about to get better.

When that feeling is there, it's so strong that it convinces me that I'm going to feel like that forever. It becomes the Truth, that there will be no end to the suffering. This is it, and I have no choice but to accept that. I know in my head that that's not true, but that's still the feeling. 

A few months ago, I spent some time in Colorado, and I remember driving through the mountains. And there's that moment when, after winding around the rocky corners, and through the thick brush of forest, in an almost claustrophic tunnel of trees and rock, you turn a corner and BAM! - you see it. The View. Everything opens up for miles and miles: entire mountain ranges, and a great big sky with enormous clouds, and a shining lake with cabins and probably birdhouses that are too small to see but you imagine they're there with little hopping, chirping birds. And this whole breathtaking view unfolds in an instant and you can see why you've come all this way, what wondrous things lie ahead. And if you think in that moment to just 10 seconds earlier, you realize that there's no way you could have imagined that that was around the corner. 

Because the previous 50 corners were just more trees, and more mountain, and more trees. So why would this turn be any different?

I remember other moments like that while traveling. In New York City for the first time, I was walking for miles, enjoying everything I saw. But I was looking out for the Empire State Building. So for mile after mile I'm overshadowed by steel and glass giants that tower over me, and I'm stuck walking through this monotony of gray sidewalk and office buildings, and then suddenly I turn the corner of some street, peer up, and BAM! There it is, straight ahead, the Empire State Building.

I find it comforting to remember this lesson in life. That yes, the feeling - whatever feeling - is there, but it probably won't be forever. That things can improve dramatically, and that it can even happen rapidly. 

If you've been winding on the road of life for awhile, and it's discouraging, and there is no destination in sight; if each new turn reveals a seemingly endless string of disappointments, remember that a beautiful, magnificent landscape may be just around the bend. 

It may be difficult to hope, but hope is what keeps us going; and when you finally see the View, you might know right then that your small, stubborn hope was worth it.     

#21 - Ready or not (2/7)

A friend of mine - "James" - is on the leadership team of a large organization.

There has been turmoil there recently and James was subsequently asked to step up to be interim leader. He wasn't expecting it. He didn't want to be in charge. But everyone was asking him to do it.

"At 5 years with this job, I actually have some of the most experience, and they see me as the most qualified. Kind of scary, isn't it?"

I found that question to be funny.

Inherent in it is another question that I can relate to:

"Who, me??"

It conveys self-doubt and the presumption that many other people are more qualified than us.

I see James as a strong leader, capable, intelligent, wise, great with people and a good heart. He's exactly the person I would want in the lead of an organization.

But he doesn't feel that sure of himself. Not yet. Not now.

It made me wonder how many other great leaders throughout history felt what he was feeling.

Do U.S. Presidents ever wake up on some morning and realize they have no one to look to for leadership? Does panic ever set in? Overwhelm? We don't see these moments, but I'm sure they happen.

Did Napoleon question himself before making key military decisions?

I wonder how often movie directors of large, long-term projects doubt their creative direction and decision. I wonder if they ever want to just hit "escape" and run away from the pressure.

I'm almost positive that most of the leaders we admire and respect went through this.

Even Jesus, leading right up to the Crucifixion, knelt in anguish in the Garden of Gethsemane and prayed, "Father, if You are willing, take away this cup from me."

This is a person considered by many people as God in the flesh, the perfect human whom they trust completely. His disciples left everything to follow him. And yet, even Jesus before his defining hour didn't feel ready. 

It must be a heavy burden to bear. It's human nature to want to run away. We ask, "Does it really have to be me??"

The answer is, in many cases, yes. It's up to you.

You're the best one to lead. You're the best one to speak up. No one else has your particular talent and voice.

I shared some of these thoughts with James, and remarked that maybe he's the same as all the "greats" that came before. That his self-doubt may be a sign that he is ready, not that he's not.

I hope that my friend begins to trust himself a little more, that he will be patient when he makes mistakes, and know that he's more capable than he realizes.

I hope this for James because I have the same hope for myself.

The next time I am overcome with self-doubt, I hope I remember my words of encouragement to him, so I can look at the leader in the mirror and say, "I got this."

#20 - The New Year is already here (1/7)

It's nearing the end of December, so I'm going to celebrate the New Year.

No, not 2016. 

2015. 

At the beginning of this year, I jumped on the #yourturn challenge, which was to write a blog post every day for 7 days. From January 19 to January 25, I blogged for 7 days. And it stuck. I finally began writing regularly and keeping this blog. 

First once a day, then once a week for all of February, and then settled into once a month. 

March, April, May.

June, July, August, and September. 

Then came October, and I stopped. 

The calendar had rolled to November 1, and I missed it. 

My 9-month streak was gone. And so was any motivation and momentum. There was nothing there. I haven't written a post since. 

Now it's December, and I'm about to end last year's "New Year." I figure it's not too late to get something done, so I'm going to start writing again. 

You see, the New Year is still a full year. It's not new for 3 months, and then it becomes an old year. It's a year for the full year. 

365 days that are all new. Every single one of them. (And an extra one on leap years, like the one coming up).

365 sunrises. 365 sunsets.

365 chances to do something because you can. Because you want to. Because you failed and you don't want that to be the end of the story. 

This will be the first post of another #yourturn challenge. A challenge to myself. Seven posts in seven days, ending on Christmas. That 7 month streak between March and September? This will match that in one week. 

So, here's to 2015. Before I start pondering next year, I'm going to finish this one strong, like I started it. 

And as you look forward to the beginning of 2016, remember that it's a full year you're celebrating. Another year we get to spend living and breathing and loving others. So enjoy all of it. 

Every day. Starting with this one. 

#19 - Do something you're bad at

I just got done painting.

No, not like a Dali or Picasso or Monet. Not that type of painting.

More like brushes, and trays, and buckets, and rollers type of painting.

I still have light mint green paint on my hands. And some on my shoes.

And the one thing I noticed when I started is that I'm really bad at it. I had done it before - in fact, it was in this same house about 10 years ago. But it's been awhile.

I kept thinking, "Man, I have no business doing this."

It felt awkward, and I could see streaks on the walls, and I wasn't sure about what kind of pressure I should use, and the angles were all weird, and I was like "maybe it's all in the wrist" but my wrist isn't used to the whole uppey-downey sideways motions, and it was just, let's say, not feeling natural.

But my brother is painting his house and needed help, so here I am. I'm doing my best. And I feel like I suck at it. But I'm also free labor, so hey.

What I realized at the end of it though is that I was starting to get the hang of it.

I was like, hey, maybe I'm OK at this.

I mean I was not ready to invite my grandpa, a former journeyman painter, to come take a look at it. I can only imagine the tears he would cry after looking at my workmanship.

It's just so so far from what he could do.

But I'm glad I did it. I'm glad I tried again at something I'm bad at.

I feel like I learned something about myself. Discovered a new skill. Pushed myself just a little bit.

And so I say to you- try something you're bad at.

Not like a new hobby or sport or something you eventually want to get good at. Not the first step in a long journey of perfecting a craft. Even though those too start with being terrible and making mistakes.

No, I'm talking about something you're just going to try for an hour. Or a day. And then put it down again.

Relish in what it's like to be out of place. To be a "beginner" but with no hope of being a master.

Like my painting skills. Maybe it will be 10 years before I have to use them again.

But when I do, I'll know that my wrist-rotating uppey-downey zig-zag motion skills are good enough.

And that's good enough.

#18 - Zap the Map

Stop. 

Stop using Google Maps on your phone. (or whatever app you use).

It's killing your brain. 

Let me explain. 

For years now, I've used Google or Apple maps for nearly everything. If I need to go somewhere, I type in the address, and I'm on my way. Boom.

It tells me routes, when to turn left, and when I'll get there. It's the most convenient and tempting way to get from Point A to Point B. 

And it's turned me into a zombie.

When I map from another city or some distant location to my house, I listen to everything it tells me to do, like an automated robot. Which makes sense for the first few hundred miles. 

But even when I'm a few miles from my house, I find myself continuing to listen intently and follow its every command. 

Lately I've found myself doing this and get annoyed. "What the hell am I doing!? I don't need this. I can think for myself." And I close the app. 

Suddenly, my pride kicks in. My autonomy. 

Where was it all those other miles?

Which is why, about a month ago, I decided to stop mapping while I'm driving. 

I wanted to practice driving the way it used to be, where you would look up at the street signs, and calculate distance in your head, and know which way is north, and just make a decision of where to go.

And what the heck, even get lost, and have to make a U-turn, and learn from your mistakes.

I want to use my freaking head for crying out loud. 

I want for the unthinkable to be able to occur, for my phone to die, and for me to still be capable of functioning as a human being with real skills.

Now, here's a side note: I do use the app to find my route before driving. I study it to see where I'm going before I'm on my way. And if I absolutely need to, I'll pull over and study it some more. (Let's be honest: there are obvious safety lines we cross when messing with our phones, even if it's not "texting." Pulling over helps me feel safer in this way.)

So that's my challenge to you. If you can, pick your head out of your phone and just drive.

Study the map ahead of time. Be prepared and trust yourself.

I'm willing to bet that with your eyes, ears, and brain, you have everything you need to get where you want to go.    

#17 - Letting

Letting go can be difficult.

I have these boxes in my room stacked taller than me. My goal is to get rid of most of the things in there and downsize and minimize.

I went through a couple of them tonight and found a lot to get rid of. 

And quite a bit to keep. 

There are classic toys, books I love (or used to love), concert stub tickets from 2001. I had to keep some of that stuff. 

They are memories. Some of them even have a direct connection to my grandma. One was a receipt of the last thing I bought with her. 

Yet they don't actually bring me any closer to my past or to anyone else. 

Letting go is hard. 

I was talking to a close friend this week about the nature of relationships.

And how as you get older, especially after college, those relationships tend to change. 

Sometimes a lot. 

They evolve. They take a different form. 

I resist this. I want things to be the same. I want to keep a strong connection. I want to hold on to the idea that our lives still have some strong commonality.

Letting go isn't easy. 

Somehow when I was younger, I came to see myself a certain way. We all do. We figure out what our identity is and then it sticks, like a plastic candy wrapper clinging to your shoe that you can't shake off. 

I've spent several years and have invested a lot of intention into shifting my paradigm, and altering the way I see myself. 

And yet I find myself saying, "Oh, I could never do that." 

"Who, me? Someone else would probably be better."

....Seriously? I'm really giving airtime to these thoughts? I know better than that. I no longer adhere to that mentality. 

Letting go takes time.  

I was thinking of other phrases that start with the same word.

Letting go.

Let it be. 

Let it show. We each have these amazing qualities and ideas and kindness inside of us, but we often hide them. 

We're embarrassed. We assume others' qualities are better.

But all we need to do is let them out. Let them show. 


Letting go, as has been mentioned, can be a challenge. 

But maybe it's the "letting" that's the hard part. 

It's such a passive word. It shouldn't require much action or thought. You're just "letting."

Allowing. Giving permission. 

Like the keepers of a canal or a bridge permit a ship to pass through. They don't have to pull or push or coerce the ship. They just have to allow it. 

It sounds so easy. 

But it's actually one of the most difficult things for us to do. Letting.

Maybe there's an opportunity here. 

Perhaps there's something that you have trouble "letting" in your life. 

What would happen if you gave up some control there? 

Shifted your expectation? 

Chose acceptance and patience?

As for me, I'm still working on it. I'm trying to be open to change. To allow relationships to connect and disconnect. To see myself in a new light. 

It may not be easy. But it might be for the best.

#16 - Love me a ton or to the moon and back

I was going over a math problem with my students, and we were converting units and trying to solve it. 

After we did, I looked at the board and I wondered aloud: "What does it mean when someone says, 'I love you to the moon and back'? 

A quick Google search reveals that the moon is 238,900 miles from the Earth. So the moon and back would be 477,800 miles.

That's a lot to love someone.

Personally, I would drive a few hundred miles, maybe a few thousand out of love. 

But what if someone told you they loved you to the moon, but not back?

Now from what I can tell, the general expectation is a round trip, so I think a lot of people would be offended.

But that's still almost 300,000 miles! Shouldn't you be happy with just one earth-to-moon distance? Or maybe it's that you need to come back or else you're stranded there forever?

Okay, forget about the whole moon thing. How about 'I love you a ton'

Hmm, so you love me 2,000 pounds? I wonder if in other countries they say "I love you a kilo'? (No, seriously people in/from other countries - do they?)

What if someone says I love you a quarter ton, or I love you 100 pounds - would you feel cheated?

Back to the original scenario, how is love best measured, in distance or in weight? Is the ton of love greater than the lunar voyage, or vice versa?

After about 30 seconds of this, my students were begging, "Can we just do math problems already??"

Ha - it worked. Genius. 

We moved on, but afterward I kept thinking about it. How do you measure love? Is it with time? With money?

What is your time worth, anyway?

It seems silly to try to calculate these things and put values on them, but we do. 

But are they really worth that? Can they be measured?

I'm mostly posing questions, because I don't have the answers. Not for you anyway. I'm too busy trying to figure them out for myself. 

But I do know that some of the most valuable things are perhaps infinite. 

Time may be finite, but we all get the same handful of seconds every day. 

And as for love, well that certainly could be an endless supply. Is there a way to run out?

So maybe we should love people to the moon and back. 

And then some. 

I mean, why not? Whatever the measure is, if we're doing it right, there's more where that came from.