Eating the Covers Off

My grandfather used to say, "Buy 'em books and buy 'em books; they eat the covers off." Meaning, of course, that you can provide people all the knowledge or tools they could possibly need, but the benefit derives from their willingness to use the knowledge and tools. Eating the cover off of a book certainly won't grant you the greatest benefit it could offer. Well, I have been eating my share of covers recently, and I am ready to stop.

I had a conversation that didn't go the way I wanted it to today. It wasn't because of anything the other person said or did; it was my own lack of purposefulness that caused my goal for the conversation to go awry. My intention had been to listen to this person's point of view fully, articulate what I saw as a more effective way to deal with a situation, and convey a boundary that I want to put in place. I missed.

Instead of expressing that I had heard this person's words, I engaged in defensive behavior that didn't serve the intention I originally had. There were probably all sorts of reasons for this, but the bottom line is that I lost my purpose in the course of the conversation. The irony of all of this is that I recently learned how to teach a set of incredible tools for effective communication, and I just threw them out the window when I let my buttons get pushed. I lost sight of what was most important to me, and I ate the covers right off of those valuable books.

The good news is that I will have another chance. I can take a stand again and recommit to that purpose, and I can acknowledge that I know how to be the way I intended to be in that conversation. I can put the tools and the knowledge that I have to use. It creates a strange buoyancy when I look in the mirror and say, "OK, let's try that differently next time."

Powers of Observation

Tonight I enjoyed an Alley Theatre performance of Sherlock Holmes and the Crucifer of Blood. It has been awhile since I read any of Doyle's original stories, but I always enjoyed them. In tonight's play, however, I saw the character's remarkable powers of observation in a slightly new light. The claim that his conclusions were "elementary" had a bit of a gift in it.

Although many people fail to see what is there to be seen, the potential to notice still exists for all of us. It is not beyond human capacity to be awake and aware, it is simply not what many people choose to be. "Coasting along" or "sleepwalking" or whatever one wishes to call it merely requires less effort than consciousness. Or at least that is the way it seems sometimes. But the ability to notice is always there when we choose to tap into it.

For Holmes, at least in this depiction, the opportunity to use his powers of observation was a source of elation. He felt most alive when he was noticing all there was to notice and drawing connections between every detail. While I am not advocating going out and trying to solve mysterious crimes, I would like to suggest that Holmes was not all that unique. In many ways, I believe that willingness to notice life is what gives me a chance to feel more alive.

Resting

Over the course of the last week, I have had dozens of ideas for carrying the percussion (plus some other instruments) forward, a list of opportunities for the new Power of Connection mentor course I'm now licensed to teach, a growing batch of things to repair around the house, and some strong motivation to advance a couple of other creative projects I put on hold a couple of months ago. And I have done very little of it.

I actually have contacted a few people and venues about some Power of Connection ideas, and I have been actively preparing for the Houston More To Life Weekend in August. But everything else has been postponed. I have had guests staying with me, and it has been more important to me that I am available to them to visit and see what there is of interest to see in and around Houston. At the same time, my mind has been divided, wanting to move on things. Take action. Get going. Music isn't going to write itself. Things won't fix themselves. Courses won't plan themselves.

It has been a challenge to my commitment to give myself time of quality rest so that I can enjoy sprinting ahead when it's time to do so. And it isn't really a matter of which activities are restful and which are not. The connection with other people rejuvenates, sharpens, and energizes me, and I am capable of resting in the midst of being refueled. Even if a part of me is absolutely ready to take off into what comes next.

Connecting

For the past few days, I have been engaging with a brand new course called The Power of Connection and I am now licensed as a mentor to teach this powerful course. It is about communication, effective listening, partnership, setting boundaries... essentially how to have meaningful relationships in every area of life. I immediately saw the ways that teaching this course could fit with my overall vision, but as I spent time with the other mentors in the training, I began to see even more possibilities.

This training was attended by people from all over the world: South Africa, New Zealand, Great Britain, and several different places in the United States. I noticed in many of these people a profound purposefulness about what they were doing; they had big intentions for how this course could feed into their visions too. By the end of the weekend training, several of these people suggested opportunities for partnership with me. I felt grateful, a little surprised, and energized by their acknowledgment of my capability and their interest in partnering.

For the past few weeks, since my experience at Way of a Warrior, I have been settling into the lesson that when I run with "fast fliers" I can trust, I can give my 100% without worrying about being left behind or leaving someone else behind. Over the past few days, I began to re-realize that I am a fast flier in many ways myself. But when I took a fellow mentor to the airport yesterday morning, I got an even bigger piece of this lesson when he asked, "How do you determine when you can trust someone?"

I had it that my experience of another person dictated whether or not I could trust them. If I could predict their behavior enough to know with some certainty that they would follow through on their commitments, then I could trust them. That cause-effect relationship was challenged when he said, "Trusting is a choice you make. You decide to be a trusting person." I can take a stand to be trusting, and my boundaries can fill in the gaps between that trust and the reality of others' behavior. I don't have to stop trusting when someone does something that challenges my boundaries.

One of the most exciting things about the journey I am on is the abundance of learning I get when I am willing to receive it.

Intention

There was a woodpecker hammering away at the gutter of our house this morning. He was making an awful racket, and I was a little bit afraid that he was damaging something. I knew I had just cleaned out the gutters a week ago, so I was a bit annoyed at the idea that there was anything tasty lurking around for him to eat. I thought about chasing him off, and then I admitted to myself that I had better things to do than guard the gutter all day to keep a woodpecker away from it. As I watched him, he decided it wasn't such a great idea after all and flew off.

I've been doing that in my life, too. There are some things that at one time seemed like really appropriate things for me to believe and do, but I'm realizing that they don't really provide what I'm looking for. I can hammer away at a metal gutter all day long, and it won't ever be as satisfying as getting into a real tree crawling with tasty bugs. For me, the metal gutter has been playing small: not speaking up when I see something I would like to change, not being comfortable talking about my own endeavors, not taking a chance on something unless I could reasonably predict how things would turn out.

This week, I have had several opportunities to try out some new ways of being, and they have actually been much more satisfying than playing small. I can speak up tactfully and with integrity. What I offer to the world is worth me letting people know about it. And I can break free of the limitations I put on myself if I am willing to be surprised by possibilities. In becoming comfortable with some new ways of thinking and expressing myself, I realize that there is a powerful motivation at work. It would be easy and comfortable to keep doing things the way I have been for years. It wasn't satisfying, but it made sense to me. What has truly changed now is an awareness of my intention. Being able to articulate a purpose, both in the macrocosm of my life and in each day's decisions, means I recognize how what I choose is in alignment with who I am.

As I was talking about Mysteries in a radio interview yesterday, I had great clarity about the value and purpose of that project, and it was natural for me to want to share that very personal music with anyone who was interested. I avoided this kind of publicity for a long time, using all manner of excuses. I still don't need for anyone to listen to my music, but I sometimes forget that my intention for composing music is to communicate something meaningful in an expressive and compelling way. In that case, of course I want to tell people about what I've been creating musically! And in other areas of life, it has proven equally true: When I remember to acknowledge my deepest intention, the commitments and the decisions I make just naturally follow.