You're not the only one who's lost. Though it probably looks like it most of the time.Most people would do anything to hide that they can't find the way either.So much energy expended, sustaining the myth that we have it all together; that we have a clue what life is about in this weird, mysterious existence in which everything is always shifting, always falling apart.The liberating step is not finding your way but discovering that there is no way to be found. Then, at last, we can live fully and courageously with our confusion and not be so burdened by it. And we can reach out to others, to help them do the same.
A hard time with freedom
Most of us have a hard time taking up our freedom.A fresh start, and we're thrown into familiar habits and patterns. A cancelled commitment, quickly replaced with another. An opportunity to speak courageously from the heart, thwarted with platitudes or cliche. A moment of silence, crowded out by thoughts and plans. The chance to listen to another avoided by rehearsing what you want to say. The possibility of creating art dissipated by deflation or inner criticism.In most instances when our freedom beckons we hug the cliff face, holding on more tightly to what we already know.Because freedom makes us anxious. It opens up the possibility that we might surprise ourselves and others. And we wouldn't want that, would we?
A good sleep
Three ingredients for a life well lived:
Good friendsGood workGood sleep
We mostly ignore the third; as if our bodies are just there to carry our minds around; as if we'll live forever. But sleep is the foundation on which the possibilities of waking life are built.If we were to get real for a moment about the finite nature of our lives, we'd probably take more care. We'd remember what our tiredness has had us forget: that we're not machines to be run into the ground, but vibrant living beings. And we'd live with this in mind more consciously and more responsibly.Instead of sleep-walking through our days, clinging on as tight as we can, perhaps we'd open to the creativity, attention and wonder possible in even the most ordinary of activities. It might even allow us to wake up enough to turn our lives into works of art.A sleep-deprived society or organisation can barely hope to address the challenges it faces. And a sleep-deprived person can barely hope to live a full life.But, of course, there's really no time for sleep. People need me. There's always so much to do.Maybe it's time to find out that if you lie down for a while, the world keeps on turning.[see data from the National Sleep Foundation, which found adults need 7-9 hours sleep per night to stay healthy and alert enough to engage fully with the world]
A catalogue of insincere yes's
A field guide to 'yes's that are really 'no's:
"I'll pencil you in" (then don't confirm)"Looks like a good plan - agreed" (then ignore it)"I'll come back to you" (and then don't)"I'll be there" (cancel at the last minute)"By next Tuesday? Sure" (knowing it'll be days after that, if at all)"We really must get together. I'll call you." (don't call)Stay silent (delete the email, or let it languish in your inbox)"Why don't you send me some dates?" (knowing there will be none)The last minute excuse: "It was almost ready and then something urgent came up"
At the moment you say it, you may think that you actually mean yes. But check how it feels. The flatness or tight knot in your belly will show you your insincerity better than anything else.Dressing up a no as a yes is a skilful way of avoiding the shame that can come when you say what you really want. Because, face it, the other person might not like your refusal. And if you're not liked, who would you be?It's a strategy with short-term payoffs (you feel better for a moment) and long-term consequences (resentment and cynicism for everyone). It erodes trust. And it increases the likelihood that each of you become 'it' rather than 'I' to one another.How about the radical move of just saying no? Clearly. Compassionately. Kindly. No excuses. No get-outs. The honest, heart-felt, clarifying, liberating truth of the matter. Because unless you can say no, how can we tell when you really mean yes?
Dust and ashes
"Everyone should have two pockets, each containing a piece of paper. On one should be written: I am but dust and ashes, and on the other: The world was created for me.From time to time we must reach into one pocket, or the other. The secret of living comes from knowing when to reach into each."Rabbi Bunim of P'shiskha (1765-1827)
One moment, grandiosity:- I can do anything. I'm unstoppable.The next, deflation:- I'll be crushed by the world and the people around me.Some people are more familiar with one than the other. But many of us bounce between them, thrown each way by circumstance: a stray thought, a memory, the look on someone's face, another's disapproval or approval, the weather, hitting a target, missing a deadline, lost keys, making a sale, an email subject line, a child's cry.Of course, neither of them are true, and the secret to living is knowing always how to remember this.You are neither super-hero nor flea. You never were. You're a human being - vast, contradictory, mysterious, talented, bounded, boundless and of inexplicable value.
The great chain that leads to you
In order for you to be here, every one of your ancestors had to survive long enough to reproduce. It's true for your parents, your grand-parents, your great-grandparents and back and back, through countless generations to the moment that organisms capable of reproduction first appeared on this planet.If any one link in this billions-long chain had been broken, the you that is reading this would not be with us. Is that not enough to inspire wonder and gratitude, even in the midst of the most everyday of activities?
Holding on for dear life
Anxiety and fear are not the same.If you're walking along a cliff-top path, fear is to do with what might happen if you slip and fall. It has to do with consequence.Anxiety is what arises from our freedom. It comes from knowing that at any time we could choose to step over the edge. Sometimes knowing this feels too much to bear. Step far enough away from the edge, hug the cliff face, and the anxiety subsides. We've removed a possibility for ourselves that could lead us into danger and difficulty.Turning away from anxiety radically reduces the degree of freedom available to us. From our place of safety, face pressed against the smooth rock, there's no chance we'll find ourselves leaping from the edge. But there's also no possibility we'll see the huge vista laid out below, the distant horizon with its forests and rivers and towering mountains. No possibility we'll begin a journey towards them. The cliff-hugger has a vanishingly small world available to them.Whole organisations, careers and lives have been dedicated to holding on to the cliff face. Any hint of anxiety and we hold tighter, inventing the rules, structures, measures, justifications and stories that will lash us into place, and everyone else with us.But the very anxiety we're trying so hard to avoid is what is calling us into an enormous world of freedom. Taking up its call is our particular human heritage, and our unique human responsibility.
The person who serves your coffee
I-it relating - when we treat someone as a means to an end, valuable to us only for what they do that addresses our interests.I-you relating - when the person is an end in themselves.Who gets to be an 'it' for you, and who an 'I'?
The person who serves your coffee?The person sweeping the street?The person you spoke to in the call centre?Your colleagues?Your clients?Your friends?Your family?Yourself?
The last one is important. Often, until we look closely, we don't even know what kind of life we're living.Possibilities open up when we discover we've been in an I-It relationship with ourselves (and hence with all others and all of life) and make moves to address it.Becoming an 'I' again requires giving up all the ways we ascribe worth to ourselves only because of what we produce, what we own, how clever we can be, how others approve of us, or the status we've been granted. It takes discovering the basic goodness that's at the heart of everyone, and building a life around that. It takes courage, steadfastness, and great kindness."But I could never do that."What will be the outcome, over time, if you don't?
Human Resources
Intelligence. Creativity. Love. Strength. Openness. Connection. Inspiration. Tenderness. Discipline. Rage. Courage. Artfulness. Curiosity. Compassion. Wisdom.All of these are human resources.What we've done by calling people 'human resources' obscures this. It forces us into a category that includes money, electricity, technology and fuel. This way we become objects rather than subjects, commodities rather than people, tools for production rather than living beings, 'it' rather than 'I'. It's an example of what in philosophy would be called a category error - a misunderstanding of the nature of things.So is it any wonder that the systems and language we invent seriously limit the expression of our true resourcefulness?
Behaviours we expect people to follow - as if human beings had no interior world of discernment, meaning, and feeling from which their actions flow.
Values we expect others to take up uncritically as if they couldn't determine for themselves what they're deeply committed to.
Competency frameworks we design as if skillfulness, artistry and human ingenuity could be reduced to a set of bullet points.
Management that aims to reduce individuality, creativity and surprise, as if people were an irritant that gets in the way of the smooth running of the machine.
None of these do anything to amplify the real resources human beings have to bring to their lives and work.And while we might think we're only treating others in this way, we can't help but diminish our own humanity each time we treat people as if they had little humanity of their own.
Staring at the sun
'Memento Mori': a reminder of something so easily forgotten, that one day each of us will die.Staring into the inevitability of our end with courage and clarity can be like looking into the brightness of the sun - almost unbearable. But having the courage to look again and again can bring us fully, searingly, vibrantly to life. And it can teach us much about what's actually important.That project that's strayed from the plan, the hundreds of emails in your inbox, the irritation you feel at someone who didn't do exactly what you expected; all look different in this light.Perhaps what seemed so unquestionably central wasn't that significant, after all.