Cause and Effect

Our brains want desperately to make sense of things. We like being able to point to causes for the things that happen. At the very least, we have someone or something to blame. That there are actual causes for so many events makes it all the more appealing. We just aren't always accurate in where we place blame. In fact, our minds fool us often enough that there is a specific term for drawing conclusions based more on assumption than actual data: false cause.

If I have a fight with my wife and wake up one morning to find my pet iguana dead, I could conclude that she killed my helpless lizard friend. It certainly makes sense. She was angry, so she committed an act of vengeance. It's what people do. I've seen movies and read books about it. But if I realize that the temperature dropped below freezing the previous night, I might conclude that he froze to death. If I care enough, I could start looking for evidence to support either cause and effect relationship.

When I remember that the power went out for awhile during that cold night, I could conclude that his electric heat rock wasn't doing its job. And in the absence of physical wounds on his fragile reptile body, I may owe my wife an apology for thinking she could sink so low. But my green, scaly confidant could just as easily have been sick. When it comes down to it, what do I really know about iguanas? Maybe I had been so busy that I never even noticed his declining energy and the glassy look in his eyes for the past week. He could have died of loneliness for all I know.

But not being able to draw a line back to a cause drives me crazy. I want his death to make sense. I want to know that I had some power to do something differently and get a different result. When it comes down to it, I want life to make sense. Every little bit of it. Knowing why (or at least believing that I know) somehow makes the things I don't like easier to accept and it makes the things I do like appear to be more than just happenstance. If I like what happened, I can attribute it to something that I did, or I can attribute it to a higher power. If I don't like what happened, I can look for someone to blame. That can be a higher power, too. Who ultimately killed my poor iguana, after all?

Uncovering this trick that our minds play on us is one of the building blocks of the tools taught in the More To Life program. Our minds draw shortcuts that make the most sense so that we can get on with the important business of our day without trying to figure out the why behind every event. But when those assumptions are wrong, we can mistakenly try to correct pieces of the puzzle that actually fit just fine. Or we can continue down a path that isn't really headed where we want to go. Which is why I value feedback from other insightful people who might see things I miss, and it's why I choose to open my mouth and express the things I notice.

We can't know the causes for every event. When we are committed to staying conscious, though, we can develop the partnerships and practices that will keep up us on track for what we want to create. And we can begin to recognize the difference between the things we actually know and the assumptions our mind tricks us into believing.

For the record, no iguanas were harmed in the writing of this post.

One Bad Apple

Yesterday I heard about an open position at a place where I once worked. The person who was in the position hadn't impressed the committee that oversaw his work, and they had decided not to continue his contract. In addition, they decided that they were going to revise the position to favor people that had a different set of credentials from the individual with whom they were displeased. Even though it is likely to be much more effort, it seems to make more sense to revamp the position than to consider that they may have just done a less than adequate job in filling the position.

The human brain likes to put things in boxes. It loves to label partly because it can make extrapolations about other things with the same label. If a person behaves a certain way, then other people with similar characteristics will behave in a similar fashion. If a situation has a particular outcome, then other similar situations with have a similar outcome. It becomes a matter of prediction.

We can predict how someone will behave based on their skin tone or age or attire, and we can determine in advance whether we are going to like or respect someone based on our predictions. Except that we are often wrong about our predictions. When we assume what is going to happen without regard for the actual relevant data, we are likely to be surprised. When we assume how a person is going to behave based on arbitrary attributes, we sometimes overlook useful information.

Sometimes we draw conclusions about a person's trustworthiness, capability, drive, or intelligence based on the flimsiest of observations. Some dangerous issues go overlooked while our attention focuses on less critical matters, all because we act on superficial assumptions. Some people are hired for a position largely because of their alma mater, and yet it is inconceivable that everyone who graduates from a particular school will have the same level of capability. At the end of the day, we cannot completely trust all of the conclusions we draw from extrapolation.

An alternative might be to assess things more purposefully. Awareness that our minds are likely hurrying us along to a conclusion before we have taken in all of the relevant information can give us incentive to slow down and look at the truth of a situation or an individual more clearly. This requires a certain level of consciousness, of course. I wonder how often challenging circumstances can be traced back to a series of decisions and assumptions made by someone on autopilot. Or a whole group of sleepwalkers. I believe that what we create tomorrow will be built on the purposeful decisions we make today, about ourselves and about the people around us.

Have You Ever Noticed...

that when you learn new word, you start hearing it everywhere? The concept that dreaming big is a team activity has been taking root for me over the past several months. I have been realizing more and more how vital connections and partnerships are in creating a powerful vision that reaches beyond my own life. This week, I have been noticing this idea all over the place, in blatant and subtle ways.

I had lunch with a friend of mine and mentioned something I was considering taking on. His response was, "I can provide you with names of a few people I trust, if you're interested." Almost exactly the same thing happened yesterday at the More To Life Creative Possibilities Day in Houston: I mentioned to someone that I envisioned creating some connecting multimedia messages for the community, but had little technical expertise to carry out that vision alone. By lunch, I had the names of two experienced videographers in the community who will potentially be incredible assets who are passionate about the message of the organization.

Beyond those conversations, I accompanied some young musicians last week, playing music that would have been incomplete and unsatisfying without partnership. The music involved more than what one performer can accomplish alone. And having partnership in enrolling the next Power of Connection course I am teaching is much more encouraging and effective than if I were to try doing it all by myself. I think one of reasons I enjoy teaching the course so much is the profound way my own thinking has been transformed by embracing a more expansive vision than I ever have before.

When I attended a new music concert last night presented by Musiqa, it struck me that the organization was thriving because of partnerships on many levels. It was bigger than one person's idea. As I was recently invited to consider taking a leadership role in a similar organization, I immediately saw the potential for connection. I was able to lay the groundwork for further conversations with people who are successfully doing what I would like to create. I can benefit from their insight and experience, and I can learn how two similarly-focused organizations can thrive together while maintaining distinct identities. Without a belief in the value of partnerships and a willingness to connect, a vision that big could be daunting.

As it becomes more ingrained that I don't have to take on my vision all by myself, I notice more and more examples of partnerships. I see movie credits where an entire team of people collaborated on writing and directing a successful film. I hear compelling pieces of music that were created by a lyricist and a composer working together. I read published papers about discoveries to which a team of researchers contributed. And when I really start noticing, I see how partnerships play a part in carrying out almost every vision, from managing a successful restaurant to producing an opera.

While I see the power of "rugged individualism" in setting my sights on what truly matters to me, the other side of that equation is in how the vision is created. I could try to do everything myself, but the potential for success skyrockets when I am willing to see all of the possibilties for connecting with other people. I am excited that what I am creating in so many different areas of my life can benefit and inspire others in a powerful way. And I am absolutely willing to trust in a vision that creates space for plenty of traveling companions.

The View From Here

Photo by Ceiniog

My journey in many ways has involved me choosing a path and then looking at my feet as I take every step. I've known exactly where my feet were landing, I've recognized the path, and I've had some idea of my destination, but I've also missed a lot of enjoyment along the way. Now, in relishing my view from this spot where I am right now and letting my feet sink into one step at a time, I recognize just how poised I am for the things that are about to happen in my life.

In a couple of days, I have an interview with a local radio station about my piano CD, Mysteries. A few days after that, I'll be completing my training to teach a course called The Power of Connection, which is a brand new six-week curriculum focused on communication and developing the myriad relationships we have in our lives. I'm composing an experiential piece with a different creative perspective than I have taken in the past, and I'm on the leadership team for creating the August More To Life Weekend in Houston. At the same time, I am able to devote time to many rich relationships, and I have a job that continues to challenge me in ways I don't always expect.

I recognize that I am indeed moving forward, in many directions, even when I'm not consciously watching where my feet are landing. I can trust that they will land on solid ground and enjoy the scenery a bit more. What I see gives me evidence toward the things that are true about me: Rather than being lazy, I am purposeful and I can set realistic goals for myself. Rather than being selfish, I actually care a great deal about people, and I am dedicating time to guiding other people in more effective and intentional communication and relationship with one another. Looking up and enjoying each step as I journey not only lets me see other people more clearly, but it gives me a chance to really see myself.

The Warrior's Bus

I just spent a tremendous week at Way of a (Spiritual) Warrior, a deepening of the tools I learned at the More To Life weekend in Houston last November. While much of the week's actual material is covered under a confidentiality clause, and it would be lacking in integrity to reveal what other people shared about their lives and discoveries, my breakthroughs alone could give me material to write on for weeks.

My first challenge turned out to be bigger than I expected. When I arrived at the airport, I had a few hours before the charter bus to the conference center was set to depart. I had a leisurely lunch, enjoyed people watching, and eventually made my way to the place where the bus would be waiting. I had printed out the instructions, which included the location to meet the bus, the name of the bus company, and a detailed description of how the bus would look. I was calm, confident, and eager to meet my fellow warriors.

Imagine my surprise when the location described on my printed page didn't actually exist. I went to the closest place I could find, and noticed that some construction was going on, so I followed some other people around to rows of buses for hotels and rental car agencies. That didn't seem like the right place, so I went back and started asking airport personnel. I learned about a new likely location for the charter bus, set off in that direction, and I was fine. A little frustrated, but willing to let it go.

Until I was unable to locate the bus at the new spot. Then, my frustration returned with a vengeance. I asked no less than six people with official looking uniforms and name badges and received the same three potential places, and at none of those places was there a bus that looked like the description I had. At one point I looked at my cell phone for the time and realized that the bus had been scheduled to depart 15 minutes ago. I thought: There's very little chance it's even still here for me to find. I decided to rent a car and drive there myself, even though this was an expense for which I really hadn't planned.

I was angry, frustrated, driven, and tense. I was believing that I should have been able to find the bus, that the directions were wrong, that the person who had written them was incompetent, and that I would have done a better job. I was believing not only that they were stupid, but that I was stupid and incompetent as well. I felt very disconnected from the enthusiasm I had been feeling less than an hour prior to that moment. I tried to hide all of that from the car rental agent. After all, it wasn't her fault. I told her what I needed, and she asked if I had my return flight information, documentation she needed to rent a car to me. I hadn't printed that out, so she suggested I go to the airline desk and get a copy of that.

Although I was polite to her, I was seething on the inside. One more obstacle in my path, I thought. And then I received a call on my cell phone. Another passenger from the bus had made a sign and was waiting for me by the information desk. They hadn't left. I found her and, still angry and frustrated, I followed her to the location of the bus, which I had passed at least twice. The bus didn't look anything like the description, there was no company name painted on the side, and there was no sign or indication that it was going where I wanted to go. But the driver had been there with the door open both times I walked past.

I held on to my anger, frustration, and judgment about the bus for at least a day, disengaging and remaining less than fully connected as the week began. But eventually I came to terms with the truth. The bus wasn't where I expected it to be. The bus didn't look like what I expected. I had inaccurate information. I was worth enough to them that they not only waited for me, but even sought me out. My anger and drivenness had focused my perception to such an impractical point that I was unwilling to explore possibilities outside my expectations. I could have asked the driver where he was going either of the times I had passed the bus, but I was convinced that it would have been a waste of time.

I don't know what would have happened if I had remained calm, open to alternatives, and connected with what was around me. It's possible that it would have played out in exactly the same way. But I know that I am more the person I want to be when I don't give my frustration and anger and drivenness the upper hand.

Are You Excited?

In a couple of days, I'm heading off to a one-week residential course entitled Way of a (Spiritual) Warrior. This experience involves a deepening of the tools that I learned in the More To Life weekend last November. In basic terms, it is personal development, leadership training, and creativity ignition over the span of a week. I am hopeful that I will return with greater clarity of focus, improved communication, and purposeful energy.


As I have contributed my time and energy to More To Life events over the past several months, I have gotten to know several people who have experience Way of a (Spiritual) Warrior, and they often ask the question: "Are you excited?" My reaction is "Should I be excited?" I get from the question that they received a big gift from their experience, but if I answer honestly, I wouldn't label what I am feeling "excitement." I don't really know what to expect from the week, truth be told. I don't know what the other people will be like, I don't know what the actual training will involve, and I don't know what things are really going to push me toward new awakenings. The only known things about which I could get excited is the opportunity for a week away and the difference I see in other people.

The week away is actually the source of a little frustration for me, and I recognize that I have been thinking about all of the things I could accomplish with that time were I to just stay here and work on music. And yet, I have a strong belief that taking this week away will allow me to work smarter toward the things that matter most to me. So that frustration gets a little nod of acknowledgment from me and I move on. I'm open to what the week has to offer me, and I am willing to engage the experience fully. The possibility of having more tools in my toolkit to keep me on track with my deepest intentions is very attractive to me, but there is something else limiting my excitement.

It has to do with those people who are asking me if I am excited about going, and others I know who have experienced this course. I realize now that I am holding a bit of judgment against them. I think of some of them, "Well, you haven't exactly rocketed to new levels of purpose and awareness since taking this course." It's a harsh thing to think about people, especially people I care about and value deeply. They are, after all, human beings with all of the garbage and baggage that comes with the territory. One week away might offer tools to deal with the garbage and the baggage, but it won't eliminate it. That is for each of us to do in our own lives. And the pile keeps getting higher every day we live. People could have any number of reasons for not putting their tools to work.

Then it hits me. If I choose to do so, I can allow the shared experience to be another tool. In about week, I will have something (else) in common with others who have taken this course. And it is possible that I can serve some part in re-igniting their powerful visions and catalyzing their deep passions. Just as I am learning that others are willing to partner with me in bringing my vision into reality, I can potentially partner with some of these individuals more effectively by drawing upon a common experience. In fact, that potential directly feeds into my growing vision for my own life. That is worth getting a little bit excited. OK, ask me again.

Trusting

The More To Life weekend had been going well. I had taken time to be well-prepared for my role, and I had plenty of people contributing toward my vision of that role. I was really getting that I can trust other people (and myself) and relax and enjoy the experience of serving as a part of an incredible team. Then Sunday evening came along.

I hadn't eaten much lunch, my first mistake. When I care for my own health and well being, I am infinitely more capable to create what I want to in the world. But I didn't, so I was getting into a spiral about how much I had to do and how little time I had to do it. I was irritable that our team meeting was taking time away from what I needed to do, and I was frustrated that I was being asked to assist in other tasks when I already had so much on my own plate. I began to believe that I was on the verge of failure, and I became driven.

As I started in on getting things done, other people stepped up to contribute and they encouraged me to go and eat. That was when I realized that I had sabotaged myself by not eating anything for lunch. I was still in a very driven space, though, in spite of getting the message over and over again that I had plenty of time and plenty of people to get things done. First, my food was too hot and I had to wait to eat it (safely); one of my teammates pointed out that it was getting me to slow down. A document that was being updated was still being formatted when I got back from dinner, so I had to wait on that. The venue's copier jammed part way through making the copies I needed, so I had to wait on that. And all the while I had people asking what they could do to contribute.

When I really got the message, though, was when I wound up with everything ready to go and about 90 minutes before it was needed. I literally was sitting around with nothing to do but breathe and wait. I don't have to be on the verge of failure to be doing my best. Everything had been accomplished, I had plenty of people and plenty of time. And I usually do, whether I acknowledge it or not.

Abundance and Possibility

I had a conversation with my support partner today, and I wanted to share our conclusion. One problem with "I don't have" and "I don't know" is target fixation. It's the same with riding a motorcycle (or skydiving, I'm told). When you concentrate on what you don't want to hit, that is inevitably the thing with which you collide. It's better to fixate on the open, safe space where you actually want to go.

In reality, there is as much potential for things to go wonderfully, but that's not always where I fix my gaze. In reality I live with abundance, but it doesn't always seem that way when unexpected expenses pop up. But obsessing about what I don't have or all of the things that could go wrong will inevitably get me exactly where I don't want to be. I'm willing to try fixing my gaze on abundance and possibility and see where that gets me.

What Am I Spreading?

So, I'm learning a lot about termites. In some dark recess of my brain, there is a piece being composed reflecting the swarming intruders. On the surface of my consciousness, though, there is a song by Tom Waits called Army Ants, in which insect and human behavior are compared.

The most common treatment for subterranean termites is a slow-acting nicotine-derived poison that can be transferred from one termite to another. As they crawl along their little tunnels and come into contact with fellow termites, the chemical basically rubs off on other bugs. Eventually, the whole colony can be affected (killed) even though some of the little buggers don't crawl through the deadly chemical directly. From my perspective, with a little luck, the queen will wind up dead on our back doorstep.

I'm also serving on team for the May More To Life Weekend in Houston, and the theme for this weekend is Pay It Forward. The hope there is that there will be a willingness on the part of the participants to offer some portion of their resources of time, abilities, and money back into the organization. I see a great breadth to what this can mean, but I have also become aware that we "pay forward" all kinds of things whether or not we mean to do so.

Just like the innocent little termite spreading poison to every colony-mate with which he comes into contact, we spread things too. We can spread joy, peace, understanding, acceptance, tolerance, kindness, and all sorts of healthy things from our own abundance. But often, when we aren't intentional about what we are doing, we can spread our own poisons: anger, violence, fear, distrust, pessimism, hopelessness, and on and on.

I sincerely hope that the whole colony of termites living close enough to dine on my house pulls down the curtain and goes to join the choir invisible. But I also want to be conscious of what I'm moving through and what I'm spreading around. Unlike the termites, I can make a choice about what I spread.

Bubble Bath

As a team member for the upcoming More To Life Weekend, I was recently given an "egg assignment." These were individual, randomly selected ways to be intentional about how they engaged life, others, and themselves in preparation for serving. My egg assignment was to "nurture myself with a bubble bath." Some people considered me to be quite lucky. Well, while I gave it a try, I'm concluding that I'm not a "bubble bath" kind of guy. But more about that in a moment...

My thoughts upon receiving the egg assignment: Why is it lucky for me to get assigned to take a bubble bath? Couldn't a person who wants to take a bubble bath do so without having it assigned to them? I don't think I have ever taken a bubble bath as an adult. I'm willing to give it a try.

So, I knew that we had some sort of paraphernalia around here, fragrant salts and Calgon and what-have-you. So my first intentional step with this was asking for a little assistance in locating it. Joy was of great assistance, and offered impishly gleeful recommendations. I had thought about waiting until after all of the Easter services were over tomorrow, but since the opportunity arose today I went for it.

It was relaxing to be not doing anything for awhile, and I intentionally didn't have anything to read or work on so my mind could take a break too. The warmth of the water and the added salts and bubbles were definitely an out of the ordinary experience, but I think the stillness was actually a bigger part of the experience. It was just a moment out of time. At first.

Then, I started thinking about all of the things that I wanted to accomplish in the next few days: working on a couple of pieces of music, preparing for a weekly role-playing game, potential entries for the blog, making some progress on my personal online networking initiative. And I got critical of myself for not relaxing. "I always seem to be busy with something, and I can't even let myself take a little time to do nothing." Wrestling with my judgment of myself and my "inability to just relax," though, I became aware of something about my busyness that I often overlook.

I actually enjoy a large percentage of how I spend my time now. It is actually nurturing to my mind to be creative, to find ways to connect with people, to be musical. I am energized by the vision and plans I have for my life, and it is fun and exciting to spend time and energy on that journey. So I can kick back and physically relax, but putting restrictions of how active my mind is can be the opposite of nurturing.

So, when I got out of the bubble bath, I was physically relaxed, but my brain was joyfully working away. I was happy to have so many things that engage me and that propel me forward. I found myself grateful that there were too many things to do in a day because they were all things I wanted to do rather than things I had to get accomplished. That hasn't always been the way I've looked at my busyness, and it was a refreshing perspective I'd like to hang on to.

Then, I walked out into a cloud of swarming termites all around our big dining table. Lots of reactivity to that. I could see them completely obscuring the soffits when I looked out the window. The "bug man" is on his way as I type. Good thing I had that relaxing time to gain a little perspective on the big picture of how I nurture myself. If I choose to, I can still create and prepare for the things I really enjoy in life while I'm sweeping up the hundreds of insects that have invaded my space. I mean there's practically a carpet of the things, people. It's kind of disgusting.

Arguing with Myself

At the More to Life team meeting last night, I found myself having a bit of an argument inside my head. I would offer up some realization I had gained from my recent conversations with people and the little voice inside my head would say, "You sound like you're bragging." "I'm not bragging, I'm just trying to contribute something I think has value." The back and forth goes on a bit, but the bottom line is that I am not interested in hiding out or only being semi-present. I want to be all in. If I'm spending my time and energy on something, I want it to be a conscious and passionate choice to be fully present and completely myself.

That doesn't appease the little voice inside my head though. When a question arises in the meeting about who is willing to step forward and take a particular responsibility, I want to raise my hand. But I wait because I don't want to "take the opportunity away from" anyone else. I imagine some part of my brain was counting to ten. With what power do I credit myself in thinking I can take away someone else's opportunity to serve? It's a subtle way of playing small, hiding out. It's not that I'm unwilling to do something, it's about how I want (and don't want) people to see me. But deep down inside I want to be seen and appreciated for who I genuinely am, not for how well I can act. So, how do I expect people to see and appreciate someone I won't show them?

I raised my hand.