Rio Gold: Words on Winning

Winning is showing up, staying present in our truth, and leaning into love every step of the way.

Did anyone besides me watch the Olympic Opening Ceremony last Friday night? Well, despite apparent low network ratings (38% down from 2012’s London Ceremony), and a self-proclaimed nervy and “slow” catwalk strut delivered by the ever leggy and lovely Brazilian bombshell, Gisele Bündchen, I was totally mesmerized.  The grand parade of nations proudly flying their flags, donning those thoughtfully designed and crafted costumes, one after another, oozed a colorful and unmasked joy that was completely contagious; that buzzy energy, palpable.

I think I even caught North Korea crack a smile or two!  After hours of sitting on the couch glued to NBC, I breathed a deep and victorious breath, finished my second dinner of popcorn and dark chocolate, and wiped off the mascara stained tears tattooed on my cheeks, calling it a day.  You would have thought I had just beat out Katie Ledecky in the 400 meter freestyle. Nope, swimming was never my thing… couldn’t get the breathing down.

WHAT’S THE DEAL?

I digress.  Suffice it to say, the Olympic games have been something of a teacher for me this past week.  Though I have not gotten to watch much of the actual games, I have been fascinated to hear about and read the highlights, perhaps even grabbing online recaps during breaks throughout the day.  Why on earth am I so obsessed?  I mean, I’ve been watching the Olympics since I was a kid!?  What makes this go-round so special?  What is it about a bunch of diverse people getting together to play sports that has our modern world in a state of, well, grace?

I am a total sucker for story and a big believer in the human spirit, against all odds.  Not only that, I was simply overwhelmed and moved to tears hearing the backstory and obstacles overcome by individuals and nations alike as I witnessed the globe pouring into Rio’s Olympic Stadium last Friday night.  Perhaps the constant barrage of global hate crimes and terrorism begs for a different voice; one of hope and generosity.  Or maybe I’m just getting old and sappy; more skin in the game, perhaps?  I don’t know…

A DIFFERENT VOICE

I hear a simple truth reverberate loud and clear within each and every athletes story as I follow the 2016 games. It’s clear as a bell.  I see it on hallowed risers as medals are placed on those well-deserving, chiseled bodies.  I see it when the tears flow steadily and uncontrollably down winners’ faces, exhausted and delirious, yet more present than ever.  I hear it perhaps the loudest when the bright and hopeful stars of tomorrow don’t make the cut for whatever reason, falling with devastation and disappointment into the arms of their lifetime advocates, coaches, and teammates.

WHAT BRINGS US TOGETHER

The journey of greatness is one of presence, engagement.  It is made up of thousands of weeks, hundreds of thousands of days and practices, millions of hours, and countless decisions; all kissed by unmistakeable failure, heartache, waiting, sometimes bliss.  The bleeding heart pushing it all forward, day after grueling day is quite simply…Belief.

Though separated by culture, creed, economy, language, religion, and politic, there is a universal force that unites us all: Belief.

Sure, you can hire the best coach money can buy and crystallize a flawless strategy, yet without a mindset of belief in our core value and worth, we are stymied by self-doubt, never leaving the gate.

Digging even deeper, I can guarantee most, if not every single Olympian, experiences seasons of total unbelief.  I imagine depression, loneliness, injury, and discouragement often taint this less than hopeful view.  You don’t have to be a world-class athlete to dance with those demons; we’ve all been there.  Those are times we lean heavily on the belief of others.  Whethercoaches, teammates, loved ones, and/or counselors; those steady and loving mirrors bolster the unwavering belief we need until we are able to embrace that reality for ourselves.   

WHO’S ON YOUR TEAM?

Who are the people in your court who know you, see you, and speak the same language of belief, no matter what? They use the same currency of hopes and dreams?  They live in the same state of vulnerability and presence, risky as it may feel?  Even on defeated days, they see the winner that becomes you.   If I have learned anything in this life, it is the incomparable value of trusted relationship and community that make bitter days a bit sweeter.   I’m a big believer in quality over quantity.  Having three to five fiercely committed teammates feels stronger and more sincere than 25.  It’s more difficult to intentionally nurture the masses, however, I suppose it can be done, especially by all you extroverts out there. 

I saw this quote on a friend’s Instagram yesterday: “Winners focus on winning.  Losers focus on winners.”  Wow. That’s it!  The picture displayed above accompanied the quote and paints a hauntingly true picture of that tragic dynamic.  Whatever the challenge, whatever the task at hand; I am learning the importance of presence, not perfection (Thank you Shauna Niequist!), and the pursuit of belief, not comparison. Winning goes far beyond a gold medal.  Winning is showing up, staying present in our truth, and leaning into love every step of the way.  

Confessions of a Bride: The Joy Hunt

I woke up super early this morning, early for me anyway. It was one of those mornings where the clock read 5:30am the first time I glanced at it and then seemed to chuckle at me as I rolled over to try and fall back asleep. It’s Sunday after all, and I didn’t have anywhere to be for several hours. Determined to sleep a little longer, I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing while convincing myself I was dozing off again. Nope. Not happening…

5:30am won and I slowly scooted out of bed, surprised by my not too terrible attitude.

Now, if you know me, you probably know I have a wedding coming up, exactly seven days from now (by the time you read this, it will be more like four.) If we’ve ever worked together on a professional level either in therapy or otherwise, you probably know I am a big believer in a relational approach to work, and well, everything! I don’t quite see how trusting relationships of any kind are built without some higher-level awareness of what our personal journeys look like. That being said, I always like to bring honest, if not sometimes unflattering, experiences to the table so they might be helpful learning opportunities for someone else out there. I suppose Brené ruined me with all that talk and research on shame and vulnerability. Permission slip to tastefully self-disclose: granted.

Here is what I’ve learned about the whole wedding planning journey in a laser phrase: don’t do it!! (Ha! Just kidding…I had to.)

Seriously, here we go: protect your joy. What an incredibly joyous occasion and reason for celebration! Yet I have managed to let myself overwhelmingly stress over details I will definitely not remember ten years from now, completely derailing my joy. (Well, besides the fact that my wedding dress alterations were totally botched and I had to start from scratch five days before getting on a plane to tie the knot. Different story. Different day.) Anyways, I pretty much lost it on my sweet, well-meaning wedding planner yesterday and picked a fight with my fiancé over furniture placement post wedding. Really? Despite sleep deprivation and procrastination payback, I needed a healthy dose of perspective or a time-out, whichever came first.

This morning it struck me that I might miss out on the joy of this glorious anticipation if I don’t stay present and grateful for each passing moment. This was both sobering and a relief! Between grinding coffee beans and fumbling through Instagram in the haze of waking up, I caught a glimpse of the most stunning, pillowy fog resting in a valley off in the distance through the back window. I dropped everything to go sit outside and behold this moment. The soft colors of morning began to rise as the symphony of Sunday started it’s warm up. The crisp, chilly air felt clean and waves of leafy green trees stood tall and proud, as if to say, “Finally, she notices what is true and beautiful.”

This present moment is the truest gift we have. You will never be in the exact space reading these words on this same passing day EVER.

I have no way of knowing if the flowers will arrive on time, if our family members all get along and enjoy themselves, if the photographs turn out as beautifully as I hope they do, and if the mascara I bought is as waterproof as it boasts. As far as I know, the groom is still in despite my new appointed position as Mayor of Crazy Town; I found a killer replacement wedding dress on the fly; and there will be tiny, sacred ceremony on a beach in Southern California that will usher in a new appointment of life called marriage.

Life is made up of zillions of moments. As T. S. Eliot so coolly writes, “We must be still, and still moving.” We also must not be afraid to experience our joy fully, without hesitation and cynicism. Let’s find those pockets of joy this week and revel in them, as if to brand them in our beings. If there is a favorite saying I have come to live by and cling to throughout the years, especially these last few months, it is surely this one:

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

St. Julian of Norwich

World Gone Small: The Isolation Trap

I grew up in Mobile, Alabama. Mobile is a charming southern city, dripping with history, Spanish moss, and extra syllables. My elementary years were challenged as a kid with all that humidity and resulting frizz. However, despite seeming eternal spells of awkward and frizz, my childhood was wonderful in so many ways. I grew up with parents who love and enjoy each other as well as their five wildly colorful kids (still do, I’m pretty sure), and siblings whom I call my closest friends to this day. My Dad is a seasoned entrepreneur, writer, teacher, and visionary. For many years he served in ministry, traveling all over to share his keen insight and passion for our unique calling as Christians in this metastory of life and faith. Even though we grew up in a small town, my world view and hunger for more got off to a big start. I attribute this to my Dad.

One of the most valuable truths Dad instilled in us youngsters was that we were made for something bigger than our experiences, our agendas, and ourselves. My faith journey has been winding to say the least, yet I have always come back to belief in a God who is orchestrating something bigger than what I cling to now and that this God is indeed good. This always gives me hope in times when what I see in front of me is a dark and damaged view of Eden.

When I am cut off from a sense of bigger belonging and purpose, I experience deep depression and anxiety. Remember that scene in Star Wars when Leia, Luke, Han, and Chewbacca get stuck in the Death Star trash compactor? The walls close in on them as they frantically swim through a sea of garbage. Solo dryly remarks, “One thing’s for sure; we’re all gonna be a lot thinner.” Classic. Well, that scene portrays the claustrophobic doom experienced when I feel alone in my struggle. (Sans the charming reframe from Harrison Ford, aka the crush of my youth, and maybe even beyond…  ).

Connectedness to something bigger than self, such as creativity, community, and calling, serves as an emotional umbilical cord. It sustains a steady and nourishing life source of hope.

When depression and/or loneliness hit and that inner dialog goes south, we have two options. We can reach out or we can isolate in our pain. Isolation is a sexy temptress, luring us into her grip one little lie at a time.

I work with countless high achieving, self-aware people in therapy who experience a similar feeling from time to time. Often, this feeling is described as loneliness. Ahh, the “L” word. We have all felt lonely at one point in our lives and from what I have observed, loneliness is part of the human condition. Not to be a buzz-kill, but what if our expectation would allow for those times in life that we feel lonely? What if we could embrace this feeling of loneliness, knowing it is part of the collective human experience as well as one we in fact have control over?

When depression and/or loneliness hit and that inner dialog goes south, we have two options. We can reach out or we can isolate in our pain. Isolation is a sexy temptress, luring us into her grip one little lie at a time.
“No one will understand.”

“No one cares.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” And on and on…

In many ways, isolation confirms a futile story we make up about ourselves that says, “I don’t deserve love and connection, and therefore I will hide out in isolation.” That screwy lie is the very culprit that endangers our existence and smushes a wondrous world of possibility into a tiny marble of a globe.

In her book Radical Acceptance (purchase at Amazon), Tara Brach articulates, “Feeling unworthy goes hand in hand with feeling separate from others, separate from life. If we are defective, how can we possibly belong? It seems like a vicious cycle: the more deficient we feel, the more separate and vulnerable we feel.”

With this in mind, it is vital that we take inventory of our sense of worthiness and connectedness. When the proverbial trash compactor starts closing in, how can we find a way out through resources of support and community? Life can feel lonely even in a room full of people, which demonstrates the faulty belief that we don’t belong. Lie of the century.

You do belong. You are significant, beautiful, and your life matters.

Failure (ish) – Two Tiny Words Pt. 2

Well, It’s been two weeks now since I “failed” my big test and I must say, I feel just fine. The feedback you gave me from last week’s blog post was invaluable and life giving, to say the least. Thank you for taking the time to thoughtfully respond and, as you will read, for widening my vision. There is something palpable and powerful about vulnerability in the face of a painful fall. It cuts through layers of nicety and ego, getting right down to the core of our insecurity. As scary as it was for me to admit my perceived defeat last week, your compassionate responses shed light on a profound truth I have come to believe more than ever as of late.

…explore reframing failure into a learning experience and ask questions instead of cast judgments on ourselves.

So remember that word curiosity from last week? I want to circle back around to it for reasons a bit different than what I originally had in mind. You see, at first, I thought I would crank out a little two-part blog series on failure and the infinite power we possess if we sit in a posture of curiosity to soften the blow of failure. By that, I thought we could explore reframing failure into a learning experience and ask questions instead of cast judgments on ourselves. The vital signs of this approach are good. I learned that the hard way through many stubborn years of trial and error leading me to the knowledge that self-flagellation is just a big fat time and energy suck.

Unexpectedly, what I have learned through your responses to my last blog post is simply beautiful and goes far deeper than the practice of curiosity or reframing or however you want to spin it. You taught me that ultimately, connection is more important than success. Yes, that’s it! Being truly seen, known, and accepted sans the masks of performance and personality is far more significant than passing a test, landing a promotion, receiving a glowing review, or making the cut. You showed me what I was really seeking from my test performance was love and acceptance, things a computer print out with a number on it would not give me even if I’d passed. You also taught me that our shared human experience is a most impressive force, and one that does not require conjuring. It flows freely into that sacred space carved out by vulnerability. Connection calls us to a higher, broader place to stand on so we don’t rot in a den of shameful isolation.

In essence, I do believe a spirit of childlike curiosity is something to cultivate and cherish in life. Perhaps it allows us to more readily reach out or change courses when we hit a roadblock. I once heard a Seth Godin podcast discussing the topic of failure. He said, in so many brilliant words, something to the effect that the smartest people in the world are not actually the most successful. The most successful people in the world are optimists. They are the people who fall down over and over and keep getting up. They are the people who see failure as an invitation to discover what is true about themselves and their work in that moment. I imagine they are also people who don’t take themselves so flipping seriously. That’s my two cents, Seth.

Again, thank you for showing me just how vital two tiny words can be: me too. Let’s get out there and live bravely this week, honoring the beautiful and constant invitation for connection and presence.