What do you love?

What do you love?

Two steps toward leadership mastery.

This morning, as I was driving home from the eye doctor – grateful for their ability to help me have clear vision – I thought, “I love seeing the leaves on the trees.”

During my mental proclamation, my heart opened, and I realized – once again – that love comes in many forms.

Here is a little background. When I was eight, my Mom took me to the eye doctor for the first time because I was having trouble seeing the board at school. Turns out, I needed glasses. When I received the glasses and we stepped outside, I said, “Mommy, there are leaves on the trees!” She felt terrible for all those years that she had not noticed I couldn’t see. I felt amazing because suddenly I could see the world in a whole new way.

It seems for me, the eye doctor is a portal to heart opening. I am grateful everyday I put my glasses on and the world comes into high relief!

If you have never felt your heart open, or don’t know what I am talking about, or it seems like new-age bull$&#! – let me tell you, you are missing out!

Heart opening has the power to help us see the world in a whole new way.

An open heart feels almost painful for me. I feel tension over my chest – as if my heart were expanding and moving forward. Tears come easy when I have an open heart. Sometimes it feels painful to swallow. I can FEEL my chest in a whole new way.

Our ability to feel our heart open is all tied up in our brain, body, and emotions. When we can choose to open our heart, we have a secret power.

The secret power is the connection to our humanity – a deep empathy for all other beings through the ability to remove the armor around our heart.

Heart armoring happens. Our body, brain, and emotions work together to protect us from harm – emotional, physical, or psychological pain. When our heart is armored, it is hard for us to feel love and the humanity of other people.

To a degree, we have all armored our hearts. It is implicitly required to operate in the world. Yet, it is not mandatory.

Sometimes you may have felt your heart open unexpectedly when you see a commercial that is a “tearjerker” or a movie that stirs you or even something more personal.

Heart opening happens. The choice to open your heart is the key here. Do you know how? Once you know, you are no longer missing out.

Here are two steps toward an open heart:

  1. Gratitude. Be grateful. It is an awesome way to open your heart. Offer someone in your life heart-felt gratitude for the gifts they bring to your world. Even if it’s the post person. People impact you. Can you let them in through gratitude? If you can’t, let’s talk.
  2. Awareness. Get clear about what your chest area feels like in this moment. Now, try to soften it. Use your breath. Try taking seven deep breaths using no muscles. Simply inhale – this is a very difficult practice for most. Notice what muscles you use to breathe. The only muscle we need to use to breathe is the diaphragm – a thin, circular muscle that horizontally spans the base of your rib cage from front to back and side to side. Most people use their neck, shoulders, chest, and back muscles. This is part of how you armor. Notice it. Be grateful for the ways these muscles have protected your heart and offer them a break.

When we take time to learn the unique way our heart opens and can choose to open our hearts, we have a secret power. Practice opening your heart. You will be amazed at the results.

Being a great leader comes through choice. Being able to choose to open our heart is leadership mastery.

 

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Feel Satisfied: Stop Judging, Start Sharing

Two Powerful Steps to a More Satisfying Life

The body reveals our inner life. Moment to moment, our unmet and often unconscious needs are revealed as feelings, expressions, moods, or actions. Though we experience these shifts, we are not taught how to speak about or understand them.

The ability to sense behind sounds and actions is hardwired into all mammals’ nervous systems and brains. It helps us respond to the needs of our tribe to ensure survival and help us thrive.

In the vacuum between the knowledge of our unmet needs and the ability to speak about them, we jump to assumptions about what we experience in ourselves and each other, moving past inquiry to judgment. Guessing about the inner life of others creates a lot of relational churn.

When we can decipher and speak about our unmet needs and feelings, relational satisfaction improves and conflict decreases. Speaking our need is like air to the lungs.

Recently, I was talking with a friend I hadn’t seen in a while. Our conversation that normally flows was strained. I felt hesitant and guarded. There was a virtual wall preventing us from connecting. We both felt it. What was it? I wanted to feel connected and in tune, but I couldn’t. Was the block in me – was I being standoffish? Was the block in them? Or both?

Humans are complex organisms. Nuances in relationship—a slight downturn of the lips, a glance away, a shoulder shrug—can cause disrupted expectations at work or home and trigger big reactions in our body that others experience.

Revealing our inner life feels unsafe. So, we try to hide our reactions. This is like a three-year-old covering their eyes and thinking you can’t see them. Everyone knows something is up. They just don’t know how to relate to you or ask about it. We don’t teach them.

When I was young, my father – the head of the household – would occasionally come home from a long day at work disrupted. He would be silent and closed off. He would not play, talk much, or make eye contact. We all observed these actions and were impacted by them.

When asked, my father would say he was fine. My young self knew he was not. His body and face told the real story. Though I didn’t know the word at the time, my father was being incongruent. He was feeling disrupted on the inside, but claimed he was not. This incongruence led me to make up stories about what was going on instead of understanding, often blaming myself for his cutoff when it had nothing to do with me.

As a child, in this short, but consistent communication, I learned two things: 1) If something is wrong, pretend like it isn’t, and 2) Don’t reveal my inner life to anyone. I embodied these skills. This was my normal.

Through feedback from others, I began to understand how even though I thought I was doing right – using the skills I was taught – keeping my inner life to myself was causing turmoil.

Just like my Dad, I was hiding in plain sight. My face and body told the story I was trying not to tell. My voice, actions, and mood said something was disrupted. Connecting to this disrupted feeling, understanding why it was occurring, and talking about it was a skill I never knew existed.

With help and patience, I began the journey to learn and practice ways to communicate the feelings and needs driving what I expressed through my body. When I shared my inner life, I felt lighter, more in tune with myself, and more connected to others. The relationships in all aspects of my life deepened. I became more empathetic. When I could understand my feelings and needs, I could also understand that others had them too and inquire about them.

I decided to apply this skill to the situation with my friend. I had felt my reaction to hide and avoid arising. Something on the inside needed to be named. It was my job to discover it.

Here comes the rub. Hiding feels right. It is what I learned to do. Revealing feels as if I’m betraying some long-held pact or sharing a secret. I am. The pact was a contract I never consciously signed, and the secret needs to be revealed for me to move forward in my life and feel connected.

This is the conversation I had with my friend.

“I feel hesitant and guarded. I need to matter to you and be included in your life.”

Revealing this felt as though I was walking out high above the ground on a cracking limb.

My friend responded with their feeling and need. They felt uncomfortable and needed more clarity.

I was asked to reveal more. It was heart wrenching. My stomach was full of buzzing bees. I longed to get back to the tree before I fell. I felt tears well up. My heart rate increased. I wanted to hide. This physical discomfort was how I knew I was getting closer to the truth.

“I value your friendship and haven’t had much time with you lately.  I enjoy our connection and miss you. I want to add value to your life and feel you’re moving beyond me, and that you may not need me anymore. I guess I’m blocking you out because I feel scared I will lose you as a friend.”

At this point they visibly softened. Their shoulders dropped and they sighed. We were again connected. We entered into a lovely conversation about the benefit we each receive from the other and the commitment to our friendship. The conversation was air to my lungs. That short period of discomfort helped me feel satisfied in my need for connection.

This disconnect between what we reveal with our body and what we share in words happens daily. It is often the subject of my coaching conversations.

We are hardwired to sense something is off with another. We make assumptions about people all the time. To improve your satisfaction in relationship both with yourself and others, you have to break the unconscious pact you signed and reveal the feelings and needs behind your mood and actions.

Usually, we feel compelled to use this skill when we are disrupted. Once you try this process a few times, I highly recommend using the skill when you feel GOOD! It’s just as important to name your satisfaction as it is to name your disruption.

Here’s a process to get you started. See the short list of feelings and need below. Go here for a more extensive feelings list and here for more comprehensive needs list.

If disrupted, begin with the “I feel unsatisfied” column. Find the word or words that best matches your inner life. And share what YOU feel.

Then move to the “I need…” column. Find a word or words that best matches your inner life. Share what YOU need.

When my husband and I practice this with our two children, we often choose three to seven feelings and needs using Grok cards, whittling the cards down over the course of the conversation. You have permission to choose and speak about all that you can handle in one conversation.

When you first begin, it may take multiple rounds to land on your truth. Your listening partner may have follow-up questions. Go to this article on active listening for some ideas on good follow-up questions.

I encourage you to share this widely. When more people have these skills, the world will be a more satisfying place for everyone.

I feel satisfied: I feel unsatisfied: I need:
Relieved Mistrustful Connection
Fulfilled Hesitant Appreciation
Content Detached Consideration
Thankful Frustrated Inclusion
Pleased Impatient Safety
Open Worried Security
Safe Resentful Stability
Secure Ambivalent To be understood
Surprised Detached Trust
Proud Withdrawn Harmony
Empowered Indifferent Order
Friendly Uncomfortable Choice
Alert Disappointed Freedom
Encouraged Irritable Independence
Optimistic Nervous Challenge
  Guarded Clarity
  Insecure Efficacy
  Envious To matter
    Self-expression
    Participation
    Purpose

 

For Coordinated Action – String the Route

For Coordinated Action – String the Route

I am a ready-fire-aim kind-of a woman. I know where I am going. I always have a large-scale plan. It drives my action. But it lives in my head and I figure out the route on the fly. I always get to where I am going, but sometimes the journey is longer than I hoped.

It is like this “10 mile” three-day backpacking trip we did with our nine and seven-year-old kids, and 4-month-old dog. We had a plan – cover 10 miles over three days. This is not a lot for us. Two miles the first day. Four miles the second. Then another four miles the third. Only we pieced together the estimated route from two different hikes. We bought maps of course. But failed to look at them and “string” the route before we left.

On day two, after a lot of elevation and about 4 miles of walking we should be close, but we were in the middle of nowhere. I turned to Neil and mouthed, “How much farther?” He shrugged and pulled out the maps. We found about where we were, then put the compass string on the map to measure the twists and turns of the trail. We had about five miles to go.

“Five miles!” We were nearly out of water – no more streams along the ridge trail we were on. We had snacks enough for a 10-mile hike total – not a 10-mile day. Our kids had never hiked 10 miles in a day. And the poor baby dog was so tired – probably wondering what the heck are these people thinking!

This was a ready-fire-aim experience. We had everything we needed – we just had to conserve water and manage our snacks. We made it. The kids and dog were amazing. Heck, we found wild strawberries along the route! The lake we slept at that night was such a reward. An advance plan would have been nice, but knowing the hike was 19 miles – almost double our distance – we might not have gone. Our coordinated effort – bringing a map, looking at it, managing our snacks and water, foraging, having all we needed on our backs, and having practiced roughing it for nearly 30 years – allowed us to realize our goal.

All around the world groups of people are building amazing futures out of the rubble of the past – they are taking mistakes made by some and using it as fuel for a new way. The coordinated effort is happening. Women, people of color, people of all genders, and humble men, are on the fore front of the movement. Yet, to fuel our efforts, and feel camaraderie on the journey, we must name the plan and string the route.

Stringing the route looks like this:

  • Have a final goal in mind: A safe and just world, where people find their place, and can significantly contribute in right relationship with all things. This is mine. Yours may be different, yet have similar qualities at heart.
  • Talk to your kids about the world you hope to see – read books, watch movies, share articles, and attend events that speak of this goal.
  • Talk to your friends and family about this world. Ask them their opinions of a world like this. What are their ideas?
  • Recognize disparity when it happens. Speak about it. Work to change it.
  • Examine and understand your actions. Work to be kind, understanding, and able to hold the line.
  • Notice others that are working toward a similar goal. Acknowledge them. Show gratitude for their commitment.
  • Practice what you need to build this world: skillful conflict, discerning what to put energy toward, listening, and coordinated action. Help others build these skills.

These are some of the things I practice daily, weekly, and over my lifetime on my way to the more beautiful world my heart knows is possible. What do you practice?

Everyone has their own way of doing things – this is the beauty of individuality. The big change that is happening is through coordinated effort. You are already contributing – take a minute to acknowledge yourself.

Now, flesh out your plan – not an idea – but a robust plan, and then talk with others. Discover how very similar we are at heart, even if our approach is slightly different.

This coordinated effort is happening all over the world. If the news won’t tell this story, we can tell it at coffee shops, on the phone, through text messages, at dinner parties, in schools, churches, and everywhere we go.

When we plan, converse, and practice, we make our dreams possible.

We do not need to be in the same room – or even country – to arrive at the same place. We simply need to recognize our efforts – we are enough, build the skills, train our children, and speak what we hope to see into reality. Naysayers beware.

If you need help figuring out your plan – invite perspective. We love helping others define and build skills for the journey.

The Breaking Point – Account for the Ego

The Breaking Point – Account for the Ego

“Sometimes the body keeps the ego in check.” Andrew Middlebrook

It was a hot July day. We had just finished our first climb. He was rappelling. I was sitting in the shade of 100-foot trees, planning the next route. A few moments later – ones that I will play over and over in my mind – I began coordinating my husband’s rescue.

We had both been climbing for over 25 years. We had taught climbing. We had guided people up mountains all over the world. How could this happen to us?

Technically, one end of the rope was too short and the other too long. For 10 years, we have bought bi-weave ropes. At the end of last year, we bought a single pattern rope with a middle mark. At the top of the climb, he was looking for the weave to change.

We were at our local crag. We had climbed the route four times. There was plenty of rope – a 70-meter rope for a 100 ft. climb. About 10 ft. of rope was left over on each end when we were swapping laps.

Last year in mid-August, 15 miles into the back country, we climbed Mt. Goode, the most technically complicated approach and descent that either of us had ever done – the climbing part was easy. We walked out sore, but safe.

I had the ground to trust his skills. There had never been a reason not to. We always came home safe. Yet, in July, after a 50-foot ground fall, he was carried out in a litter – to an ambulance – to a trauma center. Alive, but clearly not safe.

We teach leadership and communication to organizations and people all over the world. We get praise from many at work and in our community for being life, climbing, and business partners – “How do you do it?” they ask. We communicate. We check our egos. We know we are fallible. We understand we are human just like every one of the individuals we know and work with. And, yet, we all have our “things.”

I am bossy with climbing. It’s my razzle dazzle. I give advice on gear placement, systems, and route choices. My partner is the mountain climber. He’s a genius on glaciers and with route finding.

He’s also a man. Our culture says he is supposed to know better. I am a woman. I must fight to be heard. I must prove my knowledge to be respected. At a crag or in the mountains, people defer to him as the leader. Even though on rock, I am the subject matter expert.

So why, on that day, did I choose not to be bossy? The crag was crowded. Did I not want to emasculate him by giving advice?

I looked. I saw two ropes reaching a ledge. Ropes get stuck on ledges – happens all the time. You fix it on the way down. I assumed he was pulling up more rope to even out the ends.

When we climb with our kids we always check safety. Always. This time, even though he sensed something was up as there was a lot of rope out, he chose not to call out, “Are both ends down?” He wondered, “Is there a knot in the other end?” but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to bother me. He didn’t want my advice.

I chose not to say something because I trusted him. And his experience. All things indicated I could – the gear, our communication, the easy climb, the beautiful day.

As mountain people, being strong and bold is vital – or we would never get out of the parking lot. But identifying this way can get in the path of safety. It can thwart our respect for our own fallibility. Our ego gets hung up on the words strong and bold and forgets that we are also fragile and dependent. That these too are gifts of being human.

On Mt. Goode, the terrain and remoteness reminded us that we were dependent on each other – our combined skills and the practice of being partners. We had disagreements on the mountain. There was no choice but to talk about them.

At Index, we did not voice what was in our heads. I didn’t want to be bossy – like I knew better than my experienced partner. He didn’t want to seem inexperienced – like he needed my help.

In the span of our lives, we are all dependent. On other people – at the beginning and end of our life, on creatures and plants for food, and trees for oxygen. We often forget this is a symbiotic relationship. A tacit pact of accountability.

Accountability is uncomfortable. We must let go of our own importance and remember our connection. We must be grateful for what we receive and give back in equal measure. We must struggle to be humble.

I did not say something. I did not hold up my part of the accountability pact – the trust of partnership. For that, I am truly sorry. Life is a gift. It is fragile. The ego can withstand a fall, the body cannot.

Now it’s October. As I watch my husband roll around in his wheel chair – still unable to walk – I tear up. I am reminded – we are human – bold and strong, fragile and dependent.

The discomfort of revealing this story to the world reminds me of my humanness. Watching him struggle to get over an uneven part of a street with wheels spinning reminds me of our dependency. Waiting for a grown man to take his first steps is humbling.

I still trust my partner, our skills and experience, and the systems. We will climb again. But next time, my voice will be heard. I am accountable to balance being bold and strong AND fragile and dependent. I will remember. I won’t ever forget.

May we all be safe in our chosen activities.

Foundations in Leadership Development: Part Three

Foundations in Leadership Development: Part Three

The Mush Separator – Build Trust through Conversation

If you interact with people, this skill is a must. Following this process builds trust.

As a parent, it can help you be clear about what you are seeing or feeling – positive or negative – leading to a more productive and connected conversation and action with your child/ren.

As a business leader, it can help you name what is important in the conversation to produce more clarity and results from every conversation.

As a community leader, you can identify more easily the common needs or desires of all members leading to more cohesive group decisions.

The Mush Separator deepens connection. It strengthens relationships. That is why it is a foundational skill. A must for all people, especially people who desire sustainable change.

In the last foundations of leadership development, we leveraged the skillset of active listening. When we seek to understand another before we respond, we can connect with another person.

Through understanding another’s perspective, we see the interpersonal gap in action – that the way you see the world is different than the way I see it. To seek to understand we must believe – mindset, our first foundation – that connecting with the other person is more valuable than having the answer, being right, or winning. We can still do those things, but with the mindset that other people’s perspective is important, we can bring others along, instead of isolate or disconnect.

To be a leader who builds strong cultures, these tools are essential. The Mush Separator gives you a way to put them seamlessly into action.

The Mush Separator is a conversational practice for leading. At its core it is a self-awareness tool. A way to decipher and speak about your own experience. It can also be used to deeply understand the why behind another person’s actions or responses by using the tool as a paraphrasing guide. This leads to deeper understanding and a connection that builds cohesive relationships. This is a practice to get to the heart of the matter – building trust through conversation.

Self-awareness

Self-awareness is the foundational skill of developing Emotional Intelligence. There are many ways to practice. Examining our mindset is one. Seeking to understand is another. Meditation – interrupting our hard-wired automatic pattern of stimulus and response through training our attention – is an additional way.

Self-awareness is the abilty to recognize the self as separate from the environment. Because of the way our brain is patterned, it is impossible to see ourselves objectively until we are taught how, and we practice. Until then, we see “our” story as “THE” story. This limits our understanding of another’s perspective. We literally cannot comprehend it.

To survive, we develop ways of making sense of the world – our subjective experience. We build this from birth. It helps us know ourselves. Yet, there comes a time when the limits of our subjective experience become a liability to leading. Self-awareness helps us see ourselves and our subjective experience more clearly.

Self-awareness is also uncomfortable. As we become aware, we realize all the ways we were blind before. We begin to understand that our way of interacting may have unintentionally harmed people.

I liken this to when I had young children and would yell at them. I would see the fear in their eyes. Horrified, I tried to stop, but the automatic pattern I had built up to yell when overwhelmed took over. I had to meditate, practice something new, and literally rewire my brain to stop this pattern. I still yell, but I catch myself more quickly and work in the moment to repair the broken trust.

Self-awareness for me caused discomfort and defensiveness. I knew I was being disruptive, but still could not stop it. This part sucked.

As very few of us have been explicitly taught how to have a productive dialogue, or deal with our overwhelming feelings, revealing anything other than our thoughts and then taking action can feel extremely vulnerable. The Mush Separator provides a transferable tool to learn about the self and then use what you learn in conversation to build trust between people.

Basic Needs

After food, water, and shelter on Maslow’s hierarchy, humans have three basic needs to thrive: safety, connection, and dignity. Though beyond the scope of this article (see my science of somatics article), these basic needs drive our behavior.

All biological systems desire to move toward health. We just might not have been taught how.

Sometimes our early family systems are anything but healthy. Yet we implicitly learn how to be in the world through their example. They teach us how to treat others and our self. They teach us how to get results in conversation or relationship. And they teach us what trust is, even if real trust is not present.

We then bring these skills and definitions to all the subsequent systems in our lives. So, do the other people we interact with. The Mush Separator levels the playing field by providing a way to understand, interact with, and resolve intra- and inter-personal disruptions.

The Mush

Let me take you through a scene. A man named James, about 32 years old, is at work at his computer in his office cubicle. He is listening to music via headphones. A woman named Kristie, about the same age, approaches him on his left, holding a green folder and a cup of coffee. She leans over. Her face is about 8” from his face. She looks at James and says, “Hey.” She keeps looking at him for about 3 seconds until he takes his earphones out.

James replies in a drawn out, “What?”

Kristie, “You didn’t do these.” Showing him papers from her folder.

James looks back at his computer, points to his computer, and says, “Yeah, I’m really busy right now.” He begins typing.

Kristie, “I gave them to you a week ago.”

James still typing says, “I’ve been really busy for the last week actually.”

Another man named Rob, also around the same age, arrives. He too has a cup of coffee. He takes a sip and then leans down so his face is about 8” from James right side.

Kristie says to Rob, “He didn’t do these.”

Rob says looking at James and then his computer, “What do you mean you didn’t do these?”

James looks at Rob. “I’ve had a lot on my shoulders, on my plate, the last week.” And looks back at his computer.

Rob, “For who?”

James looking at Kristie and then back at Rob and leaning back in his chair a bit, “For various people around the office.”

Rob, “We needed those reports.”

Kristie, “A week ago.

Triggers

As you can imagine, James is probably triggered right now. Two people who rely on his work are crowding him and telling him he is a week late on work for them, when he is already busy with other work.

Situations that cause disruption to our patterns of thinking and being, and cause uncertainty in our approach or response, have the potential to trigger us.

A trigger response is a reaction in the physiological system to an experience that takes us out of our form of balance. Remember, everyone has different filters, so everyone will react differently to stimuli. Some people may get very quiet and stew internally. Others may be more expressive – raising their voice or becoming more animated. We all have patterns. If we work with people long enough, we notice their patterned response.

The Mush Separator is a tool to practice turning reactive action – which erodes trust, into effective action – that is trust building.

Separating the Mush

Mush happens when we react – we get triggered by an experience – then get flooded and overwhelmed. We lose choice in our response. Our thoughts, feelings and what we want become tangled and mushy.

We react with what we have practiced to date. Historical patterns of action that we learned in our early family system. These patterns were important in the past as they maintained our particular version of safety, connection, and dignity. These patterns may no longer be useful to us, may even cause harm, but we don’t know what else to practice.

When we get flooded and react, the prefrontal cortex – the zone of critical thinking and choice in our brain – literally goes offline for about 90 minutes. We can justify our response with data – usually blaming someone else for something – therefore we think we are thinking. But really, we are reacting.

Culturally, we have been taught to move from stimulus to response. We begin with thinking, “The reports aren’t done yet….” And then move to action, “You blew it. We needed those reports a week ago!” Before and in between these statements is a lot of information that can build trust in any system, and especially complex systems.

stimulus and response

The Mush Separator helps create space between stimulus and response, lets us digest our experience by separating our thoughts, emotions, motivations, and actions. It provides an alternate path to reactivity. Here is the model:

mush separator

With this model, we begin with sensory data: what did we see, hear, feel, or say that brought on our feeling of triggered. Sensory data is indisputable facts that a video camera or a microphone would pick up. Sensory data could also reference an internal sensation that an EKG machine might pick up or someone may notice like, “My heart rate went up.” Or “My hands became clammy.” Or “My face felt hot and red.” This is all data we pick up from our senses.

We then share our thoughts. In our conversations, we often start and end with this. It comes easy for us usually. At first, we will likely get thoughts confused – and as you will see in the example – with feelings.

There is a saying, feelings – have them before they have you. When we name our feelings, they become less strong. Yet we are rarely in a practice of knowing or naming our feelings. For practice, we start with four choices mad, sad, glad, or afraid. Eventually, after you practice for a while, you can graduate to using other feelings, but for now stick with these. It just makes the whole thing a lot easier – and a bit more risky as we cannot disguise the feeling of mad with annoyed or frustrated. We have to say mad, which can be disruptive to us and others.

The next step is to state our intention, motivation, desire, or hopes. This is usually our secret. And rarely shared. It can also be hard to decipher. And it is essential to the success of this skill. It helps us and others understand where we are coming from and why we are taking this particular action.

Lastly, we can move on to action. Usually this is what we wanted to say in the beginning, but after travelling though the mush separator, it may be softened as we begin to understand ourselves and others better.

Let’s walk through what the Mush Separator might look like for James:

Beginning with sensory data: “I was working and listening to music. Then you two show up about 8” from my face holding beverages and telling me I didn’t do some reports.”

Then we move to one of the three segments in the middle circle: thoughts, feelings, or intentions.

For James we will start with thoughts, “I have a lot going on. You never told me when or why they were needed. So, I focused on other things that had clear deadlines.”

Then to feelings, “I am mad…”

Back to thoughts, ‘…because I was interrupted and spoken to like this.”

Feelings, “And I’m sad…

Thoughts again, “… for being criticized for not doing something that was not clearly outlined.”

Now onto intentions, motivations, and desires, “My desire is to be supportive of all the people that ask for my help and to be given clear descriptions of expectations.”

Finally, to action, “Can you tell me what is going on the why I need to put this in front of other requests?”

mush separator james

As you can see, it got a bit mushy in there as feelings travel in groups. We are likely not purely sad or mad. We are probably both for different reasons. We are likely even glad – that they brought this to our attention, and maybe afraid – that we didn’t do our job.

Our underlying desire, motivation or intention is likely noble, but the presenting behavior to others can be perceived as sneaky or disrespectful. Therefore, sharing our intention is paramount – and also the hardest part of the model for most people – to helping others understand us.

To complete the loop, Rob and Kristie would walk us through their experiences as well. With the hope that all would feel heard, understood, and new guidelines would be put in place to mitigate future disrupted expectations.

Using Mush Separator makes a good leader a great leader. It helps weave relationships of understanding. It creates less opportunity for us to be reactive as we understand people better, and they understand us. This foundation builds strong and resilient cultures – whether in a business, family system, or community – that can withstand change and disruption with grace. Leaving the people or group feeling stronger than before.

If you need help discovering your intention, or separating your thoughts, invite perspective. We love wading through the mush with people.

How to Show you Care

Four Suggestions on Caring for Others in Crisis

When my Uncle Pete was sick with brain cancer in the early 90’s, I was scared to see him. I was not sure who he would be. I knew he would not be the same. I didn’t want him to see the response on my face that told him I knew he was different. I didn’t want to do the wrong thing. I didn’t want to cause harm.

When my friend was involved in a climbing accident where one person died. Again, I was uncertain how to be in that relationship. Should I make myself scarce or show up every day? Or somewhere in between. I baked cookies.

When my partner was in a climbing accident recently, I had the first-hand experience of what it is like to be on the receiving end of others generosity with time, food, and skills.

Some dropped everything in their lives to tend to ours – showing up at the trauma hospital, flying – or offering to fly across the country, making us food, building wheel chair ramps and moving computers, and sitting with me as I cried. Others were afraid to visit – these were mostly children – who struggled to see him transformed from an active, competent athlete to a guy in a hospital bed with a neck brace. They echo what most adults feel but don’t say.

It is hard to see real time the fragility of this human body. Hard to acknowledge we can break.

As a caring human, wanting to do the right thing, I am writing this to all the other caring humans out there as a short guide on how to show you care. As I get older the likelihood of these incidents happening more frequently – cancer, accidents, deaths – is high. Here are my suggestions on how to respond in these situations. Feel free to add yours in the comments section.

  1. Let the person know you know they are laid up.
    • The cards to my partner, the emails, letters, and texts are all welcome. They extend the love in perpetuity!
    • These days, at least for the caregiver, phone calls are tough to make or answer – time is condensed between care for the injured, kids, dog, and oh yeah, a bit of self-care!
    • Phone calls for the injured are welcome depending on their situation – cancer, maybe not, brain injury probably not, but just laid up with two broken legs – a phone call is just the thing to cheer him up.
    • And call or text more than once – continued care is needed even when the immediate trauma is over.
    • Check out this Parker Palmer article on being present for people.
  2. Ask before you bring or send food.
    • Food is how people show their love. Food is amazing. We have had some delicious food.
    • Call, text, or email to see if food or shopping is needed before you bring or send food. Sometimes, especially at first, I found myself managing the beautiful food arriving from our community. With no time, I felt overwhelmed. I was appreciative, but had to work overtime to eat the food that arrived before it went bad!
    • A friend set up a Meal Train. That was a beautiful way to manage food without extra work.
    • Lastly, if you bring food, build into your plan a way to pick up your dishes later!
  3. Come visit.
    • If you get turned away at the door, do not take it personally. Just come.
    • People need you at these times. They do not know they need you, but they do. Maybe not at this moment, but at some point. AND they will likely not reach out or know the moment when they need you most. They are busy and barely know what they need as they have had no time for self-care!
    • Some of the best friendships are formed with the people that just show up – and do not take it personally if you are shown the door.
  4. Don”t ask what they need. They do not know.
    • As the caregiver, people keep asking me what I need. I do not know sometimes, and  it is uncomfortable to ask as I am getting so much help. Just jump in and do dishes, or mow the lawn, or weed the garden, or be a sounding board for me to vent to, or listen as I talk of all my “shoulds” and reality check with me what are legitimate things I need to do and what I can let go of.
    • Take the kids (or dog…) or caregiver on adventures. Or at least offer. Our kids have had some pretty cool adventures since the accident. And again, do not be offended if they do not go. They sometimes want to stick around and be together as a family.

Do you have anything to add? I invite YOUR perspective for a change. What have you found that worked for you in these times? We all have wisdom to share.

The Cry of the Wild

In returning to my village of people who grew up around me like a fairy ring, I am filled with a settled knowing. I feel my feet here. My place at this table is worn and comfortable. They know who I am, or who I have been.

The work I do flourishes as if I have been let loose on a spring field of newly emerging grasses after a long winter of dirt and hay.

It was not a long winter, it was a long summer. A summer of mountain play, sleeping more nights under the stars than under a roof.

The who I am out there is more present to the building thunder clouds. More aware of the phase of the moon. More spacious mimicking the milky way. Playful like the bunny. I see more, terrain, like the hawk.

The who I am out there, in the wild, can play the role of who I am in the village, it is a well-practiced role. Yet, when I play it, fall into it and become it, I lose something – wild.

I want to cry out like a lion, taken from the wild to the zoo. Something is dying in me. Can’t you see it?

But I don’t want to scare the city dwellers and disrupt the unspoken code of conduct. The one I signed before I knew what I was doing.

The glitz of the city was so bright I could not read the words and at that point I did not care. I wanted to move away from the drawl of the country, the old ways, the unrefined quiet that filled the days.

But now I want to go back and study the contract. To see my signature on the paper – in blood. The blood of lost time, the blood of serving my people in all the ways I knew.

I stayed to belong to something I thought was better than me. I thought if I could blend into them, into that, then I would have arrived.

Yet, witnessing the loss of the wild in my own body is crushing. I no longer see the moon each night, nor the stars. The ambient light of the city brighter than the milky way. The noise of the cars louder than the crickets.

There is something so full in the sound of the crickets. Something so hollow in the sound of the cars.

But now that I am in love with myself, and know I belong the greater gift of life on the planet, I cannot sacrifice the wild in me to be in the city.  I am breaking the contract.

 

Yet, I chose and still choose this human place of settlement that has let itself go a bit. too. far.

As time passes, and I settle more into my role, my village, I meditate to feel the spaciousness of the wild. To be able to bring that space to my people is the goal.

Would I change the years that have given me my love and my offspring? No.

Would I change the place that has given me my friends and memories? No.

Well then maybe I am simply building the capacity to hold both the city and the wild. And in holding both I cannot escape the suffering and the pain of being where I am and longing to be somewhere else.

I cannot stop feeling the cries all around me of the wild dying and the people not noticing they are bleeding from signing in blood. From going too far. From building a culture that must die to one thing to belong to another.